Beginnings
by Hawki
Summary: Everything's pretty much normal in the Red vs. Blue 'war' at Blood Gulch. Of course, with the advancing Covenant, new arrivals and a desire for sniper rifles things aren't going to remain normal for much longer.
1. The Arrival

Red vs. Blue: Beginnings

Chapter 1: The Arrival

Red Base

The pelican drop ship came to a landing near Blood Gulch's red base, a.k.a. Blood Gulch Outpost Number 1. The ramp descended, ready to unleash the finest soldiers that the UNSC had to offer, warriors of the SPARTAN program that would be thrust into battle against the vicious forces of the Covenant that were bent on humanity's destruction.

No doubt a historian or storyteller would want to say this, but that would, simply put, be a lie. Two soldiers dressed in SPARTAN armour casually walked out, armed with nothing but pistols. The pelican flew off. No anti-aircraft fire accompanied it, no explosions or sirens could be heard. After the aircraft was out of sight and hearing, the only sounds that could be heard were bird noises from birds they couldn't see. Private First Class Dick Simmons and Private Dexter Griff slowly looked at each other. More bird noises.

"So where are the aliens?" Griff asked.

Blue Base

When stationed on Sidewinder, Private Leonard Church wondered what the point of such a base was. A planet made entirely out of ice, no valuable resources, far out of way from the advancing Covenant front (though that _was_ a good thing) and fighting against a bunch of red idiots alongside a bunch of blue idiots (except Private Jimmy, poor guy). With the decimation of his squad, Blue Command had decided that the base, due to the presence of only one soldier, was no longer tactically useful. How did it take the wholesale slaughter of good men (idiots) to make the even bigger idiots up at command to realize that that was the situation from the frickin start?

Upon arriving at Blood Gulch, Church had felt that it was a change for the better. He was in a much more favorable climate, his experiences on Sidewinder would make the soldiers look up to him with the respect that he deserved (he had his own cobalt armour after all) and, according to the briefing, he'd be rounding up the squad to make a total of three. That was good. Less idiots to work with, and even if they _weren't _idiots (slim chance), there was still the underlying fact that he'd be working with less people. The experience of being himself wouldn't be watered down so much.

"It was all too much to hope for," thought Church. "I'm stuck with a private who spends all his time yammering on about chicks or being by his rock doing _god _knows what and a captain who…ugh."

He'd seen a red ship touch down near red base. He knew that he should report this to Blue Command or Captain Flowers (the former being more preferable), but quite frankly, he _just didn't care. _

Red Base

Griff and Simmons were staring around. A drab concrete base that was apparently Red Base was near them. A few trees were around; there was some grass, a lot more dirt and…little else.

"Man," said Griff. A travel guide for this place would be the shortest one _ever_."

"Shut up dumass," replied Simmons. "We've got a situation on our hands."

"Really? I always thought that situations involved something happening or the setup for something to happen. I don't really see how this fits the bill."

Simmons looked around. "Yeah, maybe you're right."

"Hey, I'm always right," Griff protested.

"_Really?_"

"Yeah," said Griff, looking around for something that would allow him to state the obvious, yet not so obvious that he'd look like a total noob. "Um, you're amour's red."

"No it's not," replied Simmons. "My armour is _maroon._"

"O-kay," said Griff slowly. "Then what colour is my armour?"

"Not quite orange or yellow, but somewhere in between," replied Simmons simply. "The kind of colour a lemon turns after it's been left in the sun too long."

"Jackass."

"Ladies! Quit yur bitchin and get over 'ere!" shouted out a voice that hailed from southern states. They saw that a soldier in genuine red armour had just come out of the base. No doubt this was their sergeant. "Yes sir!" responded Simmons, jogging over. Griff reluctantly followed.

"Sorry fer takin so long," he said gruffly. "Had to make sure ma shotgun was in perfect working order."

"Excellent line of thought sir!" replied Simmons instantaneously. Griff was less enthusiastic.

"But you haven't even brought it out with you," he pointed out. "All you've got is your pistol. Why waste time on a shotgun that you're not even going to _use _in the near future?"

The sergeant glared at Griff. He then turned to Simmons. "What's yer name son?" he asked.

"Private Simmons sir!"

"Well Simmons, how'd you like to be the one to supervise Griff doing two-hundred push-ups?"

"I'd be honoured sir!"

"Good. I'll be back out soon. Spray a bulls eye on our number three soldier while yer at it. I've got a boom stick to retrieve." With that, he walked back inside. Simmons pointed his pistol at Griff. Sighing, he got down and started. The chances of him fighting aliens didn't look so promising. He didn't even have any Oreos with him.


	2. Prelude to 'Battle'

Red vs. Blue: Beginnings

Chapter 2: Prelude to 'Battle'

Blue Base

It had taken Church an hour of willpower to summon the energy to break out of his lethargy and report the drop ship to Captain Butch Flowers. Blue Command may have had less evident… disturbing characteristics of personality, but contacting them would mean talking to that sardonic asshole, Vic. Church was willing to take his chances.

"And you're sure you saw the drop ship?" asked Flowers.

"Yes, for the fifth time, I'm sure," sighed Church. "I was hoping that I could convey that within the first two minutes of this conversation."

"Very well," replied Flowers smoothly. "But it's important to make absolutely sure about these things. Rushing into battle blindly only results in the unnecessary deaths of good men, men with bright futures ahead of them, men with families, with kids, men with-…"

"_Oh my god…" _moaned Church.

Red Base

Griff had always been under the impression that, although training was hell on earth (no, the Covenant hadn't invaded yet), the army, given the desperate circumstances, wouldn't have time to waste over pomp and circumstance. There was the risk of battle of course, but Griff had perfected the art of being lazy long ago. He'd stay out of battles and reap the benefits of wearing SPARTAN armour (even if he wasn't to the same power of Master Chief) and perhaps, with the intellect he had, be promoted to tactician. Then he could sit on his arse all day while eating Oreos and smoking, claiming that it helped him concentrate.

Instead, he'd spent the last hour of his life doing pushups the 'correct' way. Such physical activity was excruciating for him, and it wasn't made any easier by knowing that there was a bulls eye spray painted on his back, and there was an aggressive sergeant pointing a shotgun at him, yelling abuse at every opportunity. That itself wasn't too bad, Griff had learnt how to ignore abuse at school. What really pissed him off was that Simmons would endorse _every single frickin point_!

Eventually he was done. He and Simmons stood to attention while the sergeant paced around. "Er, permission to speak freely sir?" he asked.

The sergeant turned sharply at him; "Yes, soldier number three?"

"Um, I was wondering, when do we get to start fighting aliens?"

The sergeant looked at him with a look of utter contempt. "Private, I'm demoting yer ta number four."

"But there's only three of us!"

"Yeh, but I'm leaving three open for any additional recruits that arrive, who would obviously be more intelligent than you!"

"Excellent organizational strategy sir!" responded Simmons.

Griff's chances of sitting on his arse were looking less and less likely. "So sir, who are we fighting?"

The sergeant looked deep and hard at each of them. "No aliens ter fight boys. Master Chief stalled their armada at some kinda ring world. Here in Blood Gulch, we're fighting a far more dangerous enemy."

"Who sir?" asked Simmons, his voice full of trepidation. Griff was equally on edge. A more dangerous enemy? Risky for certain, but surely that would increase the chances of promotion.

"Gentlemen," said the sergeant. "We are fighting…_ the blues_."

Griff saw where this was going. He looked up at the sky. "Master Chief… I fucking hate you."

Blue Base

After convincing Flowers that there was indeed a red drop ship that had landed and left, Flowers had called what he called a 'staff meeting.' Private Tucker, the one who spent all his some at some rock, had answered he'd be there in a second, but Flowers had called out that he could take his time. That had resulted in another five minutes of Church's life being wasted.

Tucker had finally arrived though, much to the relief of Church. Tucker may be an annoying prick, but his presence did stop Flowers from being alone with him. "So what's the situation sir?" he asked.

"Private Church has informed me that he saw a red drop ship land and take off again, indicating the existence of reinforcements, or at least supplies."

"And you're sure we can take Church's word on this?" asked Tucker sarcastically.

"Can it asswipe! I'm not the one stuck in standard blue armour!"

"Gentlemen please," soothed Flowers. "As fond as I am of such tomfoolery, someone could end up crying. Right now, we have to take action, which means investigating the Red Base. I've come up with a plan as-…"

"No, not a plan," moaned Tucker. "You know how I feel about plans."

"Tucker, no-one cares how you feel," said Church snidely.

Flowers certainly did though. "Very well private. I don't want to put you in any uncomfortable positions" (a flash of Tucker being in an 'uncomfortable position' flashed through Church's mind, making him shudder). "We'll carry out this mission with a simple strategy in mind."

"Ok, that works," replied Tucker. His face suddenly lit up. "Hey, can I use the sniper rifle this time?"

"No," replied Church simply. Flowers was more in-depth. "Don't worry Tucker; I'm sure command has sent you one."

"But that was three months ago. I think something must have gone wrong with the shipment."

"Gone wrong?" asked Church. "I don't think that anything's _gone wrong_. It's just that command is too dumb to organize a proper supply line. We received a shipment of food three months ago and that's all we have! It's starting to go off!"

"Yeah, food's important," agreed Tucker, rubbing his stomach. Flowers looked at them sympathetically. "I'll see what I can do," he said. "But now, it's time to carry out…our mission."

"Great," muttered Tucker.


	3. Cunning Blue Devils

Red vs. Blue: Beginnings

Chapter 3: Cunning Blue Devils

Red Base

"So let me get this straight," said Simmons. SPARTAN 117, a.k.a. Master Chief, led the Covenant to a ring world named Halo, and along with UNSC soldiers and the help of some bratty A.I. named Cortana, managed to decimate their fleet and thus remove the need for us to fight any aliens?"

"Excellent summary private," beamed the sergeant. "Yer brilliance is already starting to rub off. Yul make a fine soldier for sure!"

"Thank you sir!"

"What?" exclaimed Griff. "He gave a summary of what happened at some ring world. How does that make him brilliant?"

"Griff, you really shouldn't let jealousy get in the way of chain of command," said Simmons.

"Yeah, I'm _really _jealous that I haven't been able to become a kissass like you. Kissass."

"Cockbite!"

"Jackass!"

"Asswipe!"

"Quit yer bitchin!" yelled the sergeant. "I think we can all agree that Griff here is all of those things and Simmons is none of them."

"Huh?" exclaimed Griff.

"Excellent deduction sir," responded Simmons.

"Yer god damn right!" yelled the sergeant. "Now it's time for our lesson on how to hate the blues. Simmons, you get the honor of constantly poking Griff to make sure he pays attention."

"All right," said Griff. "That's prejudice and you know it."

The sergeant pointed his shotgun right at Griff's skull. "Is it? Is it _really_?"

Griff looked to Simmons for support, but he too had his pistol aimed at Griff's skull. Griff stared at the dirt of the canyon. "Ah, Christ…" he murmured.

Blue Team

Tucker hoped that this mission wouldn't take long; he really needed to get back to his rock. He also hoped that his sniper rifle would arrive soon; he was the only one on the team without one. Church had brought his along and had refused to let Tucker touch it, claiming that since he'd been at his rock so long, they'd got into dirty places.

Flowers had brought along an assault rifle, but Tucker seriously doubted that he'd use it, claiming that he'd let his "children" learn from first hand experience. Frankly, that freaked Tucker out. Church, who'd taken point, called the team to a stop. "Alright," he said. "We're within range of the red base. Let's lay low until we can find out what new toys the drop ship brought.

"Excellent analysis son," complimented Flowers. He turned to Tucker. "See what teamwork is all about?"

"Oh come on," exclaimed Tucker. He turned to Church. "Why are you the one giving the orders anyway?"

"Because I'm the most intelligent person on this team and you know it!"

"No you're not, you prick!"

"Yeah, I'm wrong, said Church. "You don't know it. You're too idiotic to comprehend that simple fact!"

Flowers shook his finger at Church. Sighing, he started surveying the red base through the scope of his sniper rifle while Flowers looked through some binoculars. Tucker was forced to stand around twiddling his thumbs. He looked back at the blue base (a.k.a. Blood Gulch Outpost Alpha) wistfully. His eyes fell on the rocks that lay around it. "Man this is lame," he moaned.

Red Base

"…those blue devils are cunning and treacherous to the extreme," continued the sergeant. "They work logistically with their command. They receive supplies far more regularly than we do. They survey an area with sniper rifles before launching an attack, and even have the audacity to use them! They-…"

"Oh come on," yelled Griff. "That doesn't make them cunning; it simply makes them tactically superior."

The sergeant turned slowly to face Griff, giving him a withering glare that would have made all vegetation in the gulch wither and die if there was any vegetation complex enough to suffer. "Are yu sumpathisin' with the enemy, _son_?"

"No sir, I was just pointing out that-…"

"I think yer were. Simmons?"

"Oh most definitely sir."

The sergeant turned to face Simmons. "Well, I'm glad that _some_ of us are loyal to Red's noble cause." He turned back to face Griff. "Unlike some others I could name." There was some silence. "Simmons," said the sergeant eventually. "Are you familiar with the concept of psychological warfare?"

"Only if you tell me how sir."

"Then watch and learn. Raise your pistol to his head while I raise ma shotgun. If he breaks, we get to shoot him, knowing that he's a blue spy. If he doesn't crack within five hours, we'll know that our number four soldier is too stupid to recognize good torture." Both firearms were raised. Griff whimpered. "This isn't fair…"

Blue Team

"O-Kay," said Church slowly. "It looks like the sergeant has received two new recruits. Some guy in maroon armour and another in…err, some kinda cross between yellow and orange. Hmmm, strange."

"You're right, mused Flowers. "This is strange. Why are they pointing their guns against the orange one?" After fighting against reds for years, Church was familiar with this kind of idiocy. "Er sir, I was actually referring to the fact that the orange one has a bulls eye spray painted on his back."

"Then shoot it," exclaimed Tucker, stating what he thought was obvious.

Church turned to him "Tucker, I'm not going to shoot a red with a bulls eye on his back."

"Why?"

"Because that shows that they want us to shoot him. I'm not gonna play right into their hands."

"Just shoot," moaned Tucker. "Let's get this mission over with so we can get back to base.

"You don't fool me Tucker. You just want to get back to your rock." There was silence as Tucker hung his head in shame. "Ok!" exclaimed Church. "For _god's sake_, what do you do on that thing?"

"Church, calm down," soothed Flowers. "Private Tucker is entitled to his own secrets, just like you… and me." Church and Tucker shuddered. Flowers's secrets? That was enough to stop them sleeping. "I don't want to pressure you Church, but the time to shoot has come. Take the shooting pose. May your aim be true."

Church sighed and lined up his sights, aiming at the bulls eye. He really hated his life.

Red Base

"Alright, I can't take it anymore!" yelled Griff, in response to the guns pointed at him.

"I knew it!" yelled the sergeant. "He's a blue spy! Simmons, why don't you show our number five soldier how we treat traitors on red team."

"With pleasure sir," responded Simmons, taking off the pistol's safety. "Poor Griff," he thought. "If only I could please both of them. But the sergeant _does _make a good father figure."

The moment had come. Simmons started to pull the pistol's trigger, but suddenly a bullet came out of nowhere, blasting the pistol out of his hands. "What the-…" he exclaimed.

"_Oh my god, how did I miss?"_


	4. The 'Battle'

Red vs. Blue: Beginnings

Chapter 4-The 'Battle'

Blue Team

Both Tucker and Flowers looked at Church. "What?"

'You're the guy with the sniper rifle, yet you can't even hit a simple bulls eye, exclaimed Tucker."

"The reds wanted us to shoot at the bulls eye, which I did due to your noobish suggestions. It must have some kinda magnetic field or something."

"A _magnetic field_?"

"Hey, do you have a better reason?"

"Yeah, it's that you're a rotten shot!"

"Now now you two," commented Flowers. Church obviously had his aim off a little bit. Church, that's something that you and I will need to work on (Church shuddered). Tucker, your complaints are valid but you really shouldn't give Church such a hard time."

"Why not? He's an asshole. Assholes deserve that kind of treatment."

"Can it shitberg!"

"Church, watch your language," said Flowers sternly. "Now, I know you're worried, but I think we can still pull this off, but only, _only _if I have the full support of you two.

"I don't think we're in much danger," pointed out Church. "I mean, the sniper rifle is a stealth weapon. It's very unlikely that it alerted them to our presence." Gunfire started racking their position. "Ah, crap…"

Red Team

Griff, the sergeant and Simmons continued to open fire against the blues, Griff's treachery seemingly forgotten in the heat of battle.

"Simmons, remember those lessons on how to hate blue?"

"Yes sir!"

"Well now's the time to prove yourself in verbal assault."

"Will do sir," responded Simmons. He cleared his throat. "Suck it blue!"

"Yeah, suck it blue!" yelled Griff. "Wait… _that's _your insult?"

"Well can you do better?"

"Sure," replied Griff. "Hey blues! You couldn't hit a red even if he had a bulls eye spray painted on his back, yer bunch of cockshitting fucktards!"

The sergeant came over. "Private, that's the worst insult I eva heard!"

"Huh?"

Blue Team

"Man Church, that cut deep," said Tucker, seeing Church doubling up in response to the orange one's comment.

"Yeah…yeah that hurt," he said. "Someone actually came up with a better insult than I could."

"Actually, I was referring to the comment on your aim."

"Oh shut up Tucker, it's not as if the reds could aim any better." It was at this point that a bullet chipped Church on the shoulder, sending him into a state of shock. "Son of a bitch!" he yelled.

Red Team

"Yeah, take that you son of a bitch!" yelled Simmons, who had fired the wounding shot.

"Well done private, you got that blue son of a bluer bitch real good!" beamed the sergeant.

Both eyes turned to Griff. "No, I am not resorting to using an insult as crap as that."

"_Do it…_" threatened the sergeant, raising his shotgun to Griff's head.

Griff stared. "We're in the middle of a battle, and you're threatening me for not insulting the enemy?"

"Griff does have a point sir," said Simmons. "We should wait until after the battle to ruin his life.

"Nah, I can't wait that long," exclaimed the sergeant. "Besides, it's not as if those blues could hit anything."

Blue Team

"Hurry up and die prick," said Tucker to Church. "I can't wait to start dancing on your grave."

"Tucker, I'm not going to die from a shoulder wound. Besides, if I did die, I swear to _god _that I'd come back and haunt you."

"I thought you couldn't stand working with me."

"True, but at least as a ghost I could make your life more miserable."

"You two please, stop it," whispered Flowers. He doubled up. "I…I've let you down Church," he whispered.

"Ah don't blame yourself sir," said Tucker. "He had it coming to him anyway."

Flowers ignored him. "Church, I'll understand if you want to kill me someday, even with something as simple as injecting me with-…"

"Sir, just get to the point," moaned Church.

Flowers drew out his assault rifle with one hand and simultaneously pulled out a blue flag from nowhere. "You shall be avenged!" he shouted, starting to fire.

Red Team

"What the hell is that teal guy _doing_?" asked Simmons. "Hey sergeant… hey, what's your name anyway?"

"Not now Simmons!" shouted the sergeant, who was pointing his shotgun at Griff. "I've got a problem with my least favourite private!"

"I am not saying that line! Besides, shouldn't we be worrying about that blue guy firing at us?"

"Griff, he's a blue. If they can't hit us with a sniper rifle, there's no way they can hit us with an assault rifle. That's meant for close quarter fighting, and blues _never _resort to that."

"Assault rifles are also meant for suppressing fire," said Griff. "Honestly, do you have _any _idea about military strategy?"

There was silence, interrupted only by the sounds of bullets from Flowers's rifle. "That's it," growled the sergeant. "It's time for me to do what I should have done a long time ago." He primed his shotgun. Griff tensed up. Suddenly a bullet hit his side, courtesy of Flowers. "Son of a bitch!" he yelled.

"Hah, I knew you'd give in dirt bag!"


	5. Band of 'Brothers'

Red vs. Blue: Beginnings

Chapter 5-Band of 'Brothers'

Blue Team

"Tucker…I'm dying aren't I?" whispered Church feebly, still recovering from his bullet wound.

"Are you?" asked Tucker hopefully. "Hurry up then pal, I've got my whole life ahead of me, I can have the joy of experiencing it without you."

"Oh shut up you prick, thanks for making it clear that I'm not dying, that I have to spend more of my time in this damn canyon with you people."

"Yeah, you're definitely gonna be fine," muttered Tucker, looking as if Christmas had been cancelled. "But seriously dude, what made you think you were dying in the first place?"

Church turned to face Flowers, who was continuing to fire at the reds; "The fact that our captain is actually shooting at the enemy and yelling like a maniac while he's at it. For some reason I thought that reality couldn't be so twisted unless you were dying."

Tucker also turned to face Flowers, finding himself mentally agreeing with Church's assessment. He'd worked with Flowers long enough to know that this wasn't normal. He was starting to exist outside the box-a very unpleasant feeling.

Red Team

"Ugh, I'm so ashamed," sighed the sergeant, as he took cover from Flowers's gunfire from behind a rock. After Griff had been hit, he and Simmons had dived for cover. "I'm actually taking cover from the gunfire of a damn blue!"

"There's nothing to be ashamed of sir," assured Simmons, who was taking cover behind the same rock. "That blue is using their flag after all, I'd say that you're doing a spectacular job given the circumstances, especially since-…"

"Son, what in Sam's hell is so important about the flag?"

Simmons blinked a few times. "Mmm, maybe command has kept you out of the loop sir. Obviously no fault of your own."

"Get to the point god dern it." Growled the sergeant.

"Err, ok. Well, you see… the flag… well…it's their color…so…um, yeah, err, that makes it…err, important!"

"Well son, I guess that makes sense. Thanks for explaining it to me. You're definitely gonna make me proud!"

"What? That didn't make a bit of sense!" yelled a voice. Simmons and the sergeant turned to see Griff was still lying on the ground where he'd originally been hit. "Why are you guys yaking on about flags instead of helping me?"

"What? You still alive?" asked the sergeant.

"Of course. A single bullet wound isn't going to kill me! Get over here!"

The sergeant looked down, as if considering his options. Only the sound of gunfire could be heard. "Err, sorry private," said the sergeant eventually. "I'm afraid that we're cut off by the gunfire. In the meantime, try squirming around silently.

"Sir, isn't that going to make him lose blood faster?" asked Simmons.

"Exactly." There was another period of silence, interrupted only by gunfire.

"Excellent plan sir!"

Blue Team

"Sorry this is taking so long fellas," said Flowers, who was now firing the battle rifle at a more controlled rate. Tucker was holding the flag for him while Church had managed to get back to his feet. "I'll try to finish this mission as quickly as possible. Hopefully the Reds won't suffer too much pain, even if they are the enemy."

"Yeah, whatever," murmured Church. "Just finish off the Reds quickly so we can get back to Blue Base.

"Huh? I thought that I was the one eager to get back to base," exclaimed Tucker. "You starting to-…"

"No Tucker, I'm not interested in rocks, I simply want to bet back to base to do something about the bullet in my shoulder, because it frickin hurts!"

Flowers suddenly stopped firing and turned to face Church, making him feel weak. Not from blood loss, but from the fear of what Flowers would do and/or say.

"Church, I've let you down again," he said.

"Huh?"

"I forgot all about your wound. I hope that you can forgive me.

Church didn't like where this was going. Err, sir-…"

"Private Tucker," exclaimed Flowers, ignoring Church. Help me get Private Church back to base for immediate medical treatment. There's no telling how much time he has left."

"Yes sir!" exclaimed Tucker. If they got back to base, he could get back to his rock.

"Capy, Tucker," said Flowers. "Sir is such a silly word."

"Ok… whatever Capy."

"Wait a minute," exclaimed Church. "We have one Red guy down and the other two on the ropes. I'm eager to get back to base too, but can't we finish off the Reds first, you know, so we can get out of this damn canyon?"

"This is no time for heroics lad," soothed Flowers. "We Blues are a band of brothers, we leave no man behind."

"That's the rangers sir," pointed out Church.

"Ok, so can we leave you then?" asked Tucker hopefully. "Especially since you're not a man anyway, but an arrogant, annoying prick?"

"Can it fucktard!"

Flowers sighed. "I see that blood loss is making you lash out private. "Don't worry though, we'll get you patched up."

"Fine," sighed Church. "But once we get back to base, can I borrow your pistol?" "One bullet in the clip will do."

Red Team

"Ha ha, that's right, you retreat ya blue bellied cowards!" exclaimed the sergeant, upon seeing the blue team head back to their own base.

"Yeah, suck it blue!" called Simmons. He turned to his superior. "We sure showed them, didn't we sir?"

"Damn right Simmons," responded the sergeant proudly. "You'll make a fine soldier."

"What? You guys didn't do anything!" exclaimed Griff, who'd got to his feet. "You guys just got lucky."

The sergeant sighed. "I think you mean unlucky, private."

"_Really_?" And under what basis is that?"

"We're unlucky that you're still alive and that we have to continue to put up with your presence." Griff faced the dirt of the canyon. "You don't have to be so mean," he whimpered.

Simmons put a hand on the sergeant's shoulder. "Don't worry sir, I feel your pain."

"Yeh…well, at least I've got you Simmons. "Let's head back inside, we have to finish the lesson on how to hate the blues." With that, they walked back into the base, leaving Griff outside.

"By the way guys, I'm fine. "Just thought I'd let you know."

_Sorry this took so long to post, but my computer back home stuffed up and I'm currently on overseas holiday, using my friend's computer and writing this at 3am. Due to these factors, it may be hard for me to update in the near future. I also have to think up some new storylines for the series, along with working on other fan fiction works. Anyway, please R&R._


	6. Sucks to Be You

Red vs. Blue: Beginnings

Chapter 6: Sucks to be You

**Blue Base**

"Really 'capy', I'm fine," insisted Church. He was standing inside Blue Base, conversing (much against his will) with Flowers, who'd finally managed to find him. Church had no idea where Tucker was, though he did have his suspicions…

"Church really, you shouldn't try to play hero," said Flowers with a great deal of concern in his voice. "One look at you is enough to indicate to anyone that something's bothering you."

"What?" exclaimed the private. "I'm wearing a fully encased suit of amour with a reflective visor. How could anyone tell how I'm feeling?"

"Church, amour makes no difference. A father knows these things."

If Church hadn't been wearing a helmet with a reflective visor, Flowers would have seen that his face had gone white. Very, _very_ white. There was also a tint of green to it. Flowers had probably sensed that he'd probably 'upset' the private so he hastily continued;

"Anyway, although I'm glad to see that your shoulder wound is healing nicely from the gunfight with the Reds a few days back, I think that the wound may still be giving you trauma. I don't want to lose you, son."

"Please sir, leave me alone…" moaned Church.

"No Church, I won't leave you alone," responded Flowers, taking on the tone of a whiney mother. "When we got back to base, you made a half hearted attempt to shoot yourself with a pistol. Private Tucker was the one who stopped you from firing, but you clearly detested him for it. The next thing I know, you're making him give you a piggy back ride."

Flowers had turned out to be more observant than Church gave him credit for. "Sir, if someone's trying to commit suicide, they're obviously going to regret being saved. And those piggy back rides are for science."

"Church, I'm glad to foster any interest in scientific fields but this needs to stop now," responded Flowers firmly. He handed Church a piece of paper. Church saw that it had a simple number on it;7PQR49M-2. It seemed very familiar, like he'd used it before, but he couldn't quite remember.

"What's this?" he asked. "A number to call a Pelican so I can get out of this damn canyon?"

"Oh no, far better," beamed Flowers. "That's a life counseling number."

"You're kidding right?"

"Oh no, the person you'll talk to is the best in the field. I'm sure you'll find it most rewarding."

Anything that Flowers found rewarding was almost going to be frightening for Church. "Anyway, I've got to go," continued the captain. "I better check up on Private Tucker. I hope he hasn't hurt himself."

"I do," murmured Church as he watched Flowers head off. "Idiot," he mused as soon as the captain was out of earshot. "The only thing that can hurt Tucker right now is an ejaculation." He looked back at the number. "No way am I calling this piece of shit!"

**Red Base**

Simmons was standing on top of Red Base, looking out into the canyon. He only had a pistol with him, but who needed weapons when confronted with such vastly inferior forces (the Blues)? Simmons subconsciously stuck out his chest-he was proud to fight for the noble Red cause. And with a top notch sergeant (who'd been dubbed Sarge), how could they lose this fight? Finally, he'd-

"Ah there you are kisass!"

Simmons let out a yelp and turned to the source of the voice, pistol at the ready. Seeing that only Griff was ascending the ramp towards him. He lowered his pistol and instead reached for a grenade.

"Where the hell have you been?" asked Griff, in between breaths. "I couldn't find you or Sarge anywhere. I thought you two might have abandoned me or something."

"That's not two bad an idea," thought Simmons. "Well, well, if it isn't our number four soldier," he said sarcastically. Sarge is at command getting orders, so it's just you and me. _Great _huh?"

"Simmons, you have no idea how to convey sarcasm," sighed Griff. "Why don't we stick to our roles?"

"Yeah, let's do that," agreed Simmons, trying to be sardonic this time. "I'll continue to be the top notch Red soldier while you remain as the lazy, good for nothing lump of fat that not even the Blues would take prisoner."

"Works for me," said Griff simply. Simmons glared at him. "Griff, what the hell is wrong with you? Most people show at least some ambition. You seem to have none. You've also got no concept of what it is to be a team player. You smoke and eat like there's no tomorrow. Damn it man, you're seriously screwed up!"

"_I'm_ the one who's screwed up?" snapped Griff angrily. "It's you guys that are screwed up. You're an absolute kissass and the largest sycophant I've ever known, who agrees with absolutely _everything_ that Sarge says. As for Sarge himself, well, not only is he violent and erratic but he hates my guts for no real reason!"

Simmons slowly raised his pistol at Griff. "Sarge has every right to hate you," he whispered. "And you'll not insult him in my presence."

"Ah crap, not this routine again," moaned Griff.

**Blue Base**

Church walked through the corridors of Blood Gulch Outpost Alpha, idly wondering where he'd seen the number before. It wasn't that relevant though, and it wasn't as if he was actually going to call it. His ability to think wasn't helped by the fact that he was fairly hungry. Still, that was a good thing, it was a sign that his wound was healing. "May as well have something to eat," he thought. He started making his way to the fridge and started taking off his helmet while opening the fridge. Underneath the amour, Church was-…

"What the fuck? Where'd all the food go?" He put his helmet back on.

Church's question may have been crude but it was definitely valid. There wasn't a morsel left. Blue Command's supply lines may have been woefully inadequate, but they could at least count on having a relatively stable food supply, even if it did have to be rationed sometimes. They seemed to have quite a bit left, how did it suddenly disappear? Unless…

"**Tucker!"**

Church slammed the fridge door in disgust and looked at the number that Flowers had given him. "Perhaps it is worth calling," he thought. "It's not as if this shithole of a life I have could get any worse."

**Red Base**

"Ok Griff, I accept the fact that you're lazy, slow, incompetent and that it's not worth trying to change that fact," sighed Simmons.

"_Finally!" _exclaimed Griff. He started walking back down the ramp. "Let me know if any Blues turn up, I'll be at the pantry."

"However-…" continued Simmons. Griff stopped and slowly turned. This didn't look good.

"However, we still have to find something that will allow you to be an asset to the team."

"Did Sarge condone this?"

Simmons grinned. "Griff, if it was up to Sarge you would have been used as cannon fodder for an attack on the Blues."  
"That doesn't come as a surprise," sighed Griff. "Trust you to be privy to that information. How _do_ you get it?" he asked sarcastically.

Simmons ignored him. "Anyway, I've thought of a few occupations that could fit you. Of course, with your 'skills' it's very short."

"Cut to the chase kissass."

Simmons sighed and took out a small piece of pad paper. "Ok, how about a veichle gunner?"

"Gunner positions leave the users exposed. I don't wanna get shot."

"Driver?"

"Simmons, we don't even have any veichles down here."

"Ok," said Simmons, who'd come to the last option on his list. "How about a sniper?"

"Sniper?" asked Griff with genuine interest. "That means I can hang around without moving much right?"

"Well yeah, but you shouldn't rush into this Griff. Being a sniper requires-…"

"Ok, I'll be a sniper. Put an order for a rifle will ya?" asked Griff idly. He started walking back down the ramp.

"Griff, you haven't even thought this through properly."

Griff turned back to face Simmons. "Simmons, if getting a rifle will get you and Sarge off my ass, I'll do it. Put an order for some Oreos on the same shipment. Oh, and you may want to get a self confidence book for yourself." Simmons watched Griff head off, seething.

"**Cockbite!"**

**Blue Base**

Church had finally called the number. There was the usual radio sound and the line was established.

"Y'allow, y'allow, I read ya, can you read me, y'allow."

"Uh, yeah this is Private Church from-, wait a minute. Vic, is that you?"

"Heyyy, Private Church," responded the communications officer. "How things holding up for you?"

"Um-…"

"Great, great, so what can we at Blue Command do for you today?"

Church was doing his best not to panic. Taking help from Vic? No way was he doing that.

"Um, yeah, you see, I kinda called a wrong number, so-…"

"Oh wait, Captain Flowers called me in advance. Seems I'm to be a councilor."

Church was getting more concerned about his state of well being. "Uh, yeah, Vic, you really don't have to-…"

"Ok, well it's Blue Command's job to help its soldiers so I'll start reading this fine work of literature. Chapter 1-'How to become a More Social Person'. Don't worry Church, we'll get you through this."

Church tried to cut off the transmission, but Vic had prevented such an action from occurring, having looped into his radio frequency. "Oh my god, is there no peace in this craphole" he moaned. He grabbed his sniper rifle and started heading outside. This situation had to change, and he was going to be the one who did something.

**XXX**

_Ok, that's this chapter done (obviously). I know that I may be stretching Tucker's obsession with food a little, that's more Cabooses's style (at least with sandwiches). Still, his mental image of Tucker was fairly accurate in terms of his sexual desires, so why not food also?_

_To fans of the series, does anyone have any idea how to convey the radio sound that's made whenever they're communicating? I'd appreciate it._

_Finally, I hope I got Vic's personality right. Anyway, please RR. Look forward to Chapter 7: 'My Kingdom for a Sniper Rifle'_


	7. My Kingdom for a Sniper Rifle

Red vs. Blue: Beginnings

Chapter 7: My Kingdom for a Sniper Rifle

**Blue Base**

"Friendship is the greatest joy, because…whoa, didn't know that. Yo Church, you following this dude?"

"Shut up Vic," grimaced Church. The fact that Vic continued reading from the self help suggested that either Vic hadn't heard him or had simply ignored him. Church was willing to bet money on the latter.

"…friends make life more bearable, cause, you know, they're fellow dudes and dudettes-…"

Church continued heading outside. The sooner the Reds were eliminated the sooner he'd get out of this damn canyon and the sooner this war would be over. To ignore the infuriating communications officer he tried thinking of happy things, ranging from his times with Tex to thinking about what he was going to do to Tucker once he found him.

Church exited the base and stepped out into the sun, letting the breeze wash over him, experiencing the-

"…and dude, I'm tellin ya, this book knows swell stuff, I mean, about buds, fellow hommies…"

Church was able to ignore Vic because at that very moment, he saw the most beautiful sight of his life-Tucker was sitting down on the grass surrounded by wrappers. A blanket was nearby along with a hamper. "Finally, some luck," thought Church. He raised the sniper rifle and took careful aim.

"…friends stick out for each other…err, think I'll skip that bit, getting kinda corny. But yeah anyway, friends can help each other, stick up for each other…whoa, now that's interesting."

Church sighed. Vic may have been the most unmelodramatic person ever, but he was making him feel slightly guilty about his plan to shoot Tucker with the sniper rifle and then lob a few pistol bullets into him. "Oh well," he thought as he headed over. "Maybe I can have fun beating him to death."

**Red Base**

Simmons finished patching the call to Red Command. The sniper rifle had been ordered out of necessity. The Oreos had been ignored to spite Griff. And instead of a self help book, he'd ordered a much better piece of literature-'Fathers-book 2 of the Happy Family Series.'

Simmons walked over to the lounge room and immediately felt sickened by the sight that greeted him-biscuit wrappers were _everywhere_. Griff lay on the couch watching…well, suffice to say that it made Simmons's stomach turn. He faced in the opposite direction. "Err, Griff?" he asked.

"What is it kisass? Can't you see I'm watching TV?"

"Um, no, sorry," responded Simmons weakly. He then remembered that he was the one in charge here, considering that Sarge was elsewhere. Griff was the one meant to be adjusting to him, not the other way around. Simmons felt his anger rising-a rare occasion.

"Griff, get the hell off that seat right now! Clean up those wrappers while you're at it!" Move it damit!"

"Make me kisass."

Simmons sighed and walked over to the TV, doing his best to ignore what was being displayed on it. He turned it off. "Hey, I was watching that," protested Griff.

"I know, and you should be very ashamed of yourself for it."

"Simmons, I know that Sarge is like a father to you, but don't think that I'm going to become his grandson or something."

"Yeah, you'd fulfill the role of the illegitimate bastard child,"replied Simmons smugly. "Now get up on the roof, the cunning blues may try attacking."

Griff sighed and managed to get himself off the couch, which showed his indentation. "Arsesucking cocktard," he murmured as he headed out of the room. Simmons got down on the floor and started picking up the wrappers while giving glances towards the TV, which he'd set to the Discovery Channel. Sarge would be so pleased with him for clearing up Griff's mess and would berate Griff because of it. What more could someone ask for?

**Blue Team**

Tucker felt sick. Really sick. And not the kind of sick where one can say "oh I don't feel so well so I'm just going to skip work." He was the type of sick where his stomach was in pain, he wanted to lie down and had the inclination to throw up all over the place. What really annoyed him was that it was the amount of food that made him feel this way, rather than any excessive intercourse.

"…friends look out for each other, care for each other…man, you're welcome to it dude."

"What the fuck?" thought Tucker. He turned around to find the source of the noise, only to see Church walking over to him. "What the hell?" he wondered. "Since when has that prick talked about anything rather than himself?"

Tucker could hear that Church was murmuring under his breath. Tucker couldn't hear exactly what he was saying but he could tell that he was uttering numerous profanities, most of which seemed directed at his fellow private. Tucker gulped, not only because Church looked ready to kill but because if he hadn't, the motion would have been reversed with 'stuff' accompanying it. Recovering from that motion, Tucker looked up to see the more unpleasant motion of a sniper rifle being brought down against his face.

"Ow, what the hell was that for?" he yelled in pain.

"Look around you Tucker, I think that's obvious," snarled Church. Tucker did look around the canyon. "Um, you're hitting me for all the grass and dirt?"

"No you berk, I'm hitting you for…ugh, just hold on a sec."

Church turned around, much to Tucker's puzzlement. He did get an idea as to what it was about though when Church started shouting away;

"Vic, I'm with one of my so called friends, so for god's sake would you just** shut the fuck up?**"

"No can do dude, direct orders from Captain Flowers which Blue Command fully supports."

"That explains a lot," murmured Church. He turned back to face Tucker who's perplexed look was hidden behind his visor, yet the effect was still made.

"Now then where were we?" asked Church. "Oh yeah, I remember." With that, he hit Tucker with the sniper rifle. Again.

"Ow, that hurts, stop it!" exclaimed Tucker.

"Unless you have some kind of method of returning all the food you stole, I'm not that inclined to," replied Church.

"Huh? You mean all this?" asked Tucker glancing around at all the wrappers. "That wasn't my fault man, Flowers insisted on having a picnic."

Despite the idiocy of such an excuse, Church knew Flowers well enough (unfortunately) to know that such a thing wasn't that surprising. "Hmm, well, I guess I can believe that," Church replied. "Anyway, we've got work to do."

"Work?" moaned Tucker. "Not work, work implies effort."

"Yeah, and it's about time that someone put effort into this damn war," snapped Church. Tucker blinked a few times. "Since when did you become so patriotic?"

"I'm not," replied Church. "It's just that the more effort we put into this war, the sooner it ends, the sooner I can get out of this canyon and the sooner I can get away from you."

"The feeling's mutual," muttered Tucker.

"Good, then you'll help me."

"No, the mutual feeling only applied to the last bit."

Church sighed but to Tucker it sounded more like a growl. He raised his sniper rifle. "Tucker, you're going to help me one way or another."

Despite the intimidating situation Tucker tried to put on a brave act. "You don't scare me Church, you can't hit anything with that rifle."

"I'm less than two feet away from you Tucker. I kinda like my chances. Get up now or you'll never get up again!"

Tucker didn't put angsty homicide past Church so he got up sighing. "Fine, I'll come. But I just want you to know that you're an absolute prick and no-one likes you."

"With any luck that's true," replied Church. "Now move." Trying to ignore his churning stomach he marched onwards with Church behind him.

"…friends often find that traveling together is a great way of strengthing the bond between them," Vic continued. "Err, let's see…no, not reading that…ugh, man dude, I hope you're following this."

"Oh yeah, I am," replied Church softly. "Especially when one friend is dominating the other."

Church could hear the sound of pages turning. "Ok. I think we can leave it there homie," said Vic eventually. "I hope that this chapter has proven to be most instructive to you, it's our job at Blue Command to ensure our soldiers are at their best and brightest."

"With people like you employed that's probably not gonna happen anytime soon," thought Church. "Err yeah, very instructive," he said to Vic hastily. "Now sign off and don't call back."

"Oh sorry dude, no can do, I've got to start chapter two. Hey I make a pretty good rapper."

Church stopped walking and started trembling with rage. Tucker turned with slight concern, but it was more out of fear at what Church would do to him if he got too pissed off. "Err, Church you ok?"

Church simply walked on ahead. Only his footsteps could be heard. Suddenly-

"**Ahh! God damit!"**

**Red Base**

Simmons was happy. Very happy. He'd finished clearing up all the wrappers that Griff had left lying around. Sarge would return, he'd reap praise and Griff would, with any luck, be submitted to situations that humiliated him more than usual. Deciding that he wanted some fresh air (at least as fresh as his respirators could provide, soldiers weren't meant to take off their helmets except when doing activities such as sleeping, showering, eating, etc.) he headed up to the roof of Red Base. Griff was already there, leaning against one of the pillars. Simmons sighed. "If you're not being lazy inside the base you're being lazy on top of the base. What's next, outside the base? _Around_ the base?"

"Can it kisass," replied Griff weakly.

Simmons noticed that Griff seemed to have trouble breathing, well, more than usual. "Hey Griff, you ok?" he asked.

"Not really, I feel like crap," Griff groaned.

"Gee, I wonder what caused that?" asked Simmons sarcastically.

"Hanging around with you." Griff looked like he was going to say more but he made a gulping noise. He started taking off his helmet. Simmons felt the need to give Griff privacy and turned the other way. "Err, Simmons?" asked Griff. Simmons turned to face him but got a whole bucket load of vomit right over his visor. "Ah, feel much better now," he grinned, putting his helmet back on. Simmons started to cuss but he was drowned out by a humming sound. A pelican was touching down right near the base.

Leaving Simmons to try and clean himself up, Griff headed down. The pelican had a FedEx marking on it, indicating that his sniper rifle had arrived. "Crap," Griff thought. "That means I have to start doing stuff with it." The ramp descended and a soldier in red amour came down, followed by another one clad in tan amour. The tan one shifted his feet slightly as if uneasy. The red one looked down at Griff. "Hello dirt bag," he boomed. Griff's heart skipped a beat. Sarge was already back.

Footsteps could be heard and Griff saw Simmons approaching, with _most_ of the vomit cleared off his visor. "And how are you Simmons?" asked Sarge.

"Fine sir, although if it wasn't for Griff things would be much better." Griff gulped, this time in fear.

**Blue Team**

"Church, can I use the sniper rifle?" asked Tucker.

"No," came the simple response.

"Why?"

"Because I don't like you."

Tucker sighed as Church continued to survey the Red Base from the cliff that they were on. "See anything?" asked Tucker.

"Yeah," said Church. "There's four guys down there along with a Pelican. The tan one could be a new recruit, although maybe he's just the pilot. Hmm, looks like they're giving the orange one a hard time."

"Orange? I thought he was yellow."

"Trust me Tucker he's orange. But yeah, looks like they're pointing their guns at him…"

**Red Base**

"Fine," sighed Griff. He turned from facing Sarge's shotgun to facing Simmons's pistol. "Simmons, I apologies for vomiting on you, for being messy and for being a lazy dirt bag."

"Louder!" shouted his fellow private. Griff repeated.

"Now on your hands and knees," snarled Sarge. Muttering, Griff obliged. "Now kiss my ass," continued Sarge.

Griff stood up. "There's no way I'm doing that."

"Don't worry sir I can fill in," piped up Simmons.

"Pipe down Simmons, the aim of this is to make Griff miserable."

"Don't you find this disturbing?" Griff asked the tan soldier. Well, at least that's what he would have technically done if the soldier hadn't walked away and entered the pelican to retrieve the deliveries. "Asshole." Griff muttered.

**Blue Team**

"Shut up Vic," muttered Tucker as Vic continued to recite from the book. He turned his attention to surveying the Red Team. "So what's happening?" asked Tucker.

"Shut up Tucker, let me concentrate," snapped Church. "And you can shut up too Vic!"

"Make me dude, or shake me."

Church had no idea what that meant and thought it best not to inquire. He looked down the rifle's scope. "Ok, the red one and the maroon one are hitting the orange one, while the tan one is bringing something out of the drop ship. Looks like a book."

"Boor-ring," moaned Tucker.

Church ignored him. "The tan one is bringing something else out, looks like a sniper rifle. Hmm, the orange one doesn't seem happy about it. Anyway, we better get closer so I can take a clear shot. You ready Tucker? Tucker?"

Church turned to face Tucker, but there was no Tucker there to face. Upon hearing that a sniper rifle had been delivered he'd rushed down the cliff to get it. He quickly arrived at the Red Team and tried wrestling the sniper rifle from them, but was beaten down for his efforts. Church watched the entire time. "Tucker, captured?" he whispered. He soon realized the full consequences of this. "Wahoo!"

"…friends always help each other out, man this is corny…"

Church realized that that didn't matter. Tucker wasn't exactly a friend.

_Ok, that's that chapter done. Sorry for the wait, but it's the longest one so far. I'd tell you the name of the next chapter but I feel that it would give away some of the plot. Our (as of yet) unnamed tan soldier will play a role, my first OC. Whether this will be a one-shot or sustained appearance is as of yet undecided. I don't want a Gary Stu._

_Also, I've made plans to include another character from the RVB series. Feel free to theorize all you want, I'll laugh at your ignorance (unless you get it right)._

_Finally, I feel that this chapter is heavily inclined towards the Blue Team. I want to balance both teams' appearances but since the Blue Team is my favourite I fear that I may favor them too much. If you feel that this is happening for either team, please let me know._


	8. OMFG!

Red vs. Blue: Beginnings

Chapter 8: OMFG!

_Remember that thing about the chapter title? Well, I actually changed it, given the fact that I decided to turn one chapter into two, hence this title that gives nothing away. Anyway, sorry about that._

**Red Base**

"Alright yeh blue scumbag," growled Sarge to the newly captured Tucker. "Who are you and who do yeh work for?"

Tucker raised an eyebrow. "Er, is that a trick question?"

"Don't sass me yeh blue piece of-..."

"Sir, calm down," exclaimed Griff. "The blue's got a point." Sarge glared at him, promptly acompanied by Simmons. "No guys, I'm not sympathising with the enemy," sighed Griff, not wanting a repeat of past events.

"Then what the hell are you doing?" asked Simmons. "Can't you see that Sarge is in the middle of interogating an enemy soldier?"

"He's definetly in the middle of something," responded Griff. "I'm not so sure that it's interogation." Sarge seemed to be fingering his shotgun so Griff quickly continued; "I mean, isn't it obvious who he is and who he works for? A blue working for blue command. Doesn't his armour make it obvious?"

Simmons went to say something but stopped before words came out, seeing the logic in Griff's argument. "Yeah, Griff's got a point sir." Sarge seemed to consider it. "Yeah, I guess you're right," he said to Simmons eventually. "Thanks for pointing that out Simmons."

"Anytime sir."

"What the hell?" exclaimed Griff. "I'm the one who pointed that out!" Sarge glared at him; "Don't try to hog the credit _son_, especially when it belongs to my favourite private here."

"But, but..." Griff stamered. He then remembered that Sarge had a hulking shotgun and Simmons was willing to do anything that Sarge told him, even if it meant using his pistol against Griff. "Fine," he said eventually. "You guys do what you want."

"Thank you," responded Simmons curtly. He turned to face Tucker. "So er, um...Sarge, how do you interogate someone?"

"Actually, I'm not so sure myself. I tend to kill blues rather than interogate them."

"Really?" asked Griff. "What's your body count?"

"Shut your hole dirt bag, that's irrelevant!"

There was some silence after this. "So, if you can't interogate me, can I go then?" asked Tucker eventually.

"Hell no!" exclaimed Sarge. "You're a blue, you need to be submitted to the humility and torture that's fitting of your kind!"

"Isn't that against rules of war?" asked Griff.

"Not when it comes to a blue," pointed out Simmons. Sarge beamed at him. "Kisass," Griff muttered.

There was some more silence. "Er, maybe I could take him off to be interogated," came a voice. All eyes turned to the tan soldier. "I've got a delivery to Red Command anyway."

Griff noticed that the voice seemed kind of forced, like the soldier was trying to hide the true sound of his voice. Sarge and Simmons seemed to be oblivious though. "Well, I hate to miss out on tormenting a blue, but I guess that's a good plan of action," said Sarge.

"Oh I agree sir," piped up Simmons.

The tan soldier gave a salute and started escorting Tucker into the pelican. Suddenly a shot rang out. "What the hell?" exclaimed Griff.

"The damn blues are shooting at us!" exclaimed Sarge. "Simmons, find their sniper. Tan guy, get the blue out of here. Griff, run around in the open so the sniper wastes time trying to hit you." While Griff protested against the supposed insanity of his role in the plan, Tucker looked up to the ridge where Church had been in awe. Was Church actually trying to save him?

**Blue Team**

"God damit, why can't I ever hit anything?" exclaimed Church. "Now Tucker's going to give them information." Understandably, he was very unhappy that he'd missed Tucker-he could have preserved blue secrets and eliminated a pimp at the same time. Church looked down the scope again. "What the hell?" he wondered. "Why's that orange guy just running around?" The pelican started to take off but Church didn't really care so much. "Well, Tucker's gone one way or another," he thought. "May as well celebrate." He turned around to head back to Blue Base and found himself standing face to face with Captain Flowers. "Ah Church, there you are," he said, sounding relieved. "I was wondering where you two had got to, I was afraid that you may have got lost, or captured by the Reds."

"Uh, yeah," said Church slowly. "Well, we're ok, so we may as well head back." Church started to head off but Flowers stopped him. "What do you mean by 'we' son?" he asked. "Where's Private Tucker?" Church sighed and began to explain. Nothing was going right.

**Red Base**

"Guys, I think it's pretty obvious that that sniper isn't intent on killing me," called out Griff between breaths as he ran around in circles.

"Yeah, unfortunatly you're right," sighed Sarge. "Those damn blues! They have no sense of priority!"

"Er sir, why would Griff be high on their list of priorities, considering that he's our number four soldier?"

"Excellent point Simmons," beamed Sarge. "You're getting better every day."

"Thank you sir."

Griff had run up to them, not wanting to walk in case the sniper was still around and he didn't know what jogging was. "So er, what now?" he asked.

"You have to find the sniper, dumbass," pointed out Simmons.

"Wait, wasn't that your job?" asked Griff.

"Griff, don't be stupid!" exclaimed Sarge (forgetting that Griff was already stupid). "I'd never entrust Simmons with such a menial task."

"But didn't you-..."

"_Griff..._"

"Fine," sighed Griff. "I'll do it." He hoisted up his sniper rifle and began to peer through the scope. It didn't last long as Sarge almost imidiatly hit him over the head. "Ow, what the hell was that for?" he exclaimed.

"What do you think lardbelly? You're using the sniper rifle completely the wrong way!"

"Er, sir?"

"Griff, don't you know anything about sniper rifles?" asked Simmons. "They're not for long range shooting. They're for shooting the enemy really close up so you can see the fear in his eyes. Isn't that right Sarge?"

"Dern right," he grinned. "Is there anything you can't recite flawlessly?"

"Course not, especially if it comes from you."

"Man guys, how do you get these pep talks in all the time?" asked Griff.

"We have our ways," said Sarge simply. "Now get out there, find the sniper and come back with his head on a pike!" Sighing, Griff obayed. Sarge and Simmons watched him go.

"Do you think he's up to the task?" asked Simmons eventually.

"Hopefully not."

**Blue Team**

"So Tucker, is he ok?" asked Flowers anxiously.

"Oh yeah, he's fine," assured Church, hoping that that was a lie. "But he was taken off in the Pelican, he's beyond our reach."

"That so dude?"

"Vic, shut up!"

Flowers looked at Church sympatheticly; "Is Vic giving you a hard time?"

"What do you think?"

"Er, no? He's a good guy, a true friend, a valued-..."

"Capy, we don't have time for this," interupted Church exasperatedly. "We have to rescue Tucker." The impact of the words hit him quickly. "Whoah, did I actually say that?" he wondered.

Flowers nodded knowingly. "Yes, you're right, there's no time to waste, we have to give pursuit."

"How? There's no way out of this canyon."

Flowers grinned. "As far as you know. Anyway, we better get back to Blue Base quickly. Can I count on your assistance?"

Church considered his options. He was the best damn soldier in the canyon (at least in his mind) so if he did help Flowers, Tucker would almost ceartinly be rescued. On the other hand, if he did go with Flowers, he could be somewhere outside this dirthole. "Alright sir, I'll help, but on one condition."

"What's that?"

**"That you make Vic shut the hell up!"**

**Red Team**

Griff came to a stop. He could see the two blues running off, probably back to their own base. "Ugh, there's no way I'm running that far," he thought.

"Griff? Why the hell have you stopped? Why aren't you dead yet? Er, I mean, why haven't you eliminated the sniper?" Griff turned around to see Sarge and Simmons running up to him. "Real subtle sir," he muttered.

"Put a cork in it," growled Sarge. "Why aren't you chasing those blue bastards?"

Griff lay down on the ground. "Ohhhh," he groaned. "I don't feel too good. I think the stuff I had back at Red Base is wanting to come out."

"I knew this would happen," sighed Simmons. "That's what you get for being a lazy blob of lard."

"Shut up cockbite."

Sarge looked at Griff skepticly. "Alright, we'll go on," he said. "But before we go, there's something that I need to tell you."

"What?"

"That yur the most lazy, dispicable and useless soldier I've ever known!"

"Cool. Does that mean you're not going to ask me to do stuff?" Growling like a wolf, Sarge continued the chase against the Blues with Simmons behind him. "You actually believed him?" asked Simmons.

"Not really," sighed Sarge. "But in the vain hope that he wasn't faking, I left him there. He should be an easy target for that sniper"

"Excellent plan sir!"

Griff lay low until his comrades were well out of sight. Satisfied that the coast was clear, he quickly rose and started running back to Red Base, eager to catch the last ten minutes of the show he'd been watching; 'The Wonders of Pornography.' They always left the best stuff for the last ten minutes of air time.

**Blue Base**

Flowers and Church had come to a patch of dirt near their base, a feature that was quite abundent in the canyon. "Here we are," said Flowers. "Prepare to be amazed."

Church simply nodded. He was more preocupied of relishing the absence of Vic's voice. Flowers flicked the switch of a remote and the patch of dirt started shifting away, along with the sound of a platform rising. Eventually, in all its glory rose...a pelican dropship (whopty fucking doo).

"Here we are," beamed Flowers. "Our ride out of here. Ready to hop in Church? Er, Church?" Flowers turned to face Church who was glaring at him. "What's wrong?"

**"We had a dropship this entire time that I could have used to get out of this craphole and you didn't tell me? Oh my fucking god!"**

**Red Team**

"Sir, look!" exclaimed Simmons. "It looks like the Blues are abandoning their base."

"Quite right," exclaimed Sarge, looking at the departing dropship. "Those blue bellied cowards have finally realised the futility of resistance! Victory at Blood Gulch is ours!"

"Does that mean we can take leave or something?" asked Simmons. He wasn't as lazy as Griff, but some R&R would have been nice (minus Griff of course).

"Hell no!" exclaimed Sarge. "We've got to give chase, leave no Blue left alive! You with me?"

"Of course sir!" responded Simmons. "I always will be," he thought to himself.

**Red Base**

"Oh yeah, that's it baby..."

Simmons could hear the sound of the tv as he walked through Red Base to find Griff-not because they needed him, but because making him come on the pursuit mission would make him miserable. He started walking into the lounge room. "Hey Griff we need to-**Oh my fucking god!"** (in response to what was being displayed).

**FedEx Delivery Ship**

Tucker was nervous. Understandable, since he was on his way to Red Command, for interogation, torture and perhaps even execution. "It's not fair," he whimpered. "I don't want to die with some leftover virginity."

"You ok?" asked a voice. Tucker turned to see the tan soldier walking towards him. "Shouldn't you be piloting this thing?" he asked.

"Nah, it's on autopilot."

"Oh," replied Tucker. The tan one came over. "You seem nervous."

"Of course I'm nervous!" exclaimed Tucker. "I'm on my way to be interogated! They'll think I'm refusing to talk when I've actually got no secrets!"

The tan one sighed. "Secrets are a terrible thing." Tucker noticed that the tan one seemed to be peering intently at him. "Maybe I should stop hiding mine." With that, the tan one took off his helmet. "Oh my fucking god..." breathed Tucker.

**Blue Pelican**

"Ok, I've locked onto the target," said Flowers, who was piloting the ship. "Still, we'll need some help."

"But how would we get it?" asked Church. "There aren't any Blue forces near here."

"True, but I did a scan of the star system. There's a bounty hunter cruising through. He should be willing to help."

"Really, who is he?"

"I don't know his actual name, but I believe you know him by his codename-Wyoming."

_Ah, don't you love cliffhangers? (Well, I hope that I've set up a cliffhanger). Anyway, look forward to next chapter-Saving Private Tucker._


	9. The Perks of Punctuality

Red vs. Blue: Beginnings

Chapter 9: The Perks of Punctuality

**Red Base**

Simmons was still in shock due to the horror that he'd seen Griff watching on TV after having to bring him outside. How could Griff watch that stuff without going insane? Still, maybe it was that kind of stuff that made him such a lazy idiot. Of course, food and cancer sticks probably had something to do with that too. Trying to ignore the stomach turning images, Simmons focused on Sarge, who'd promised them a surprise. Simmons hoped that it was something that would, at the least, make Griff miserable.

The ground opened up, the sound of a rising platform could be heard and up rose, in all its glory...a pelican (this is getting old isn't it?). "Gentlemen," beamed Sarge. "This, is the greatest type of drop ship carrier that Red Command has. It-..."

"Sarge, isn't it the only type of drop ship that Red Command has?" asked Griff.

"Course not," snapped Simmons. "Griff, don't you know anything about military vehicles?"

"Alright then kisass," snarled Griff. "Then what other types of drop ships do you know?"

"Well, I don't," admitted Simmons awkwardly. "Still, you claimed that it was the only type of drop ship and you're always wrong, so therefore there have to be other types of drop ships."

"Excellent burn Simmons," beamed Sarge.

"Thank you sir."

"Ok," said Griff. "That's hardly what I'd call a burn. As calls go, that was weak and pathetic."

"Stuff a sock in it," growled Sarge. "Don't convey your own characteristics onto Simmons here."

"Yeah, that's unwarranted," sniffed Simmons (faking of course).

"Oh that's right, you guys know all about unwarranted punishment," sighed Griff. "You know, some day we're going to have a discussion as to why you guys hate me."

"Shut up dirt bag, we're not going to waste time on stuff like that."

"But I think-..."

"Griff, I thought we'd established by now that no-one cares what you think," sighed Simmons.

Griff sighed. "Fine, you guys do what you want."

"Now that's the kind of attitude that I like to hear!" exclaimed the sergeant.

"Er sir, didn't you tell me that you despise those kind of people?" asked a puzzled Simmons.

"Usually," admitted Sarge. "But in Griff's case it's partly a blessing. If he doesn't care what we do, we can do whatever we want, make him as miserable as we want."

"Wow sir, that's brilliant!" Simmons started imagining the possibilities.

"Sounds like bullshit to me," muttered Griff.

Sarge ignored him. "Anyway, now that we've got those explanations out of the way, we can finally get back to the point of this briefing."

"Wait a minute, there's actually a point to this?" exclaimed Griff.

"Of course!" snapped Sarge. "We must go over the pelican in absolute detail."

"Why?"

"So we can dazzle the Blues with our superior knowledge," sighed Simmons.

"Can't we already dazzle them as we are?" asked Griff. "I mean, we could show them a collection of oddities; the world's largest sycophant, the Red armies's most violent and erratic sergeant-..."

"And let's not forget the world's most lazy and disgusting soldier." completed Simmons.

"That too," sighed Griff. "Not that I care of course, the interpretation of what's lazy and disgusting can-..."

"Griff, quit yakking!" yelled Sarge. We don't have time for flawed philosophy!"

Griff stared; "We have time for a lecture on the pelican, yet we don't have time for a valid line of thought?"

"Pretty much," agreed Simmons. "It's important that we know all the tech stuff about our vehicle of choice without wasting any time on the trivial things. After all, I'm sure that the Blues aren't wasting any time."

**Blue Drop ship**

"Er, capy?" asked Church.

"Yes son, is something wrong?"

The craft was just hanging around in the depths of space, Flowers and Church waiting for Wyoming to show up. Church wasn't sure exactly how he felt about the current situation-every second wasted placed Tucker further away from them and closer to a lifetime of torture at the hands of the vicious Reds (or was it barbaric? Church didn't care enough to pay attention to propaganda that was handed out in training).

What was the strange though was that he still wasn't sure if Tucker's absence was a good or bad thing. Sure, if Tucker was gone he'd be left alone with Flowers (a shudder accompanied that thought), but no doubt Vic, in an effort to make Church miserable, would call in reinforcements. However, it was strange but… Church was beginning to think that if Tucker was gone, he'd actually…miss him.

"Church, you haven't answered my question." Flowers was looking at Church with fatherly concern. Good thing his reflective visor prevented Church from seeing that. Otherwise, he would have probably refuted the notion that in space that no-one can hear you scream.

"Oh, er yeah. I was wondering; why are we here instead of chasing after Tucker?"

"Patience Church, patience," soothed Flowers. "We're waiting for Godot, remember?"

"Huh?"

"Oh, right, right," chuckled Flowers. "I'm all mixed up. I actually have theatre tickets for a production of the play."

"Really?" asked Church, not really interested.

"Oh yes," exclaimed Flowers enthusiastically. "It's an interesting production, where it's set in the dim past of the 23rd century. Would-…"

"Capy, we can wait for Godot as long as we like, but we can't spend much longer waiting for Wyoming," Church exclaimed, exasperated.

"Church, don't worry, he'll be here soon," reassured Flowers. "The British are very punctual after all."

Church simply snorted at this. One would have thought that seven centuries of globalization would have erased the concept of ethnic minorities. But _oh no_, the Poms just had to hang in there. Wyoming was an irritating testament to this.

Also, it wasn't just Tucker that was the issue here. Wyoming was not only an exceptionally irritating individual who never let up on any chance to make him look bad in front of his peers, but towards the end of training, he'd began to suspect that he'd had the hots for Tex.

Flowers suddenly snapped his fingers; "Alright, we can't wait any longer," he exclaimed. "We have to set after Tucker-without Wyoming." He headed towards the cockpit.

"Finally," thought Church. "Not only to we stop wasting time waiting for an arrogant prick (like he wasn't one himself), but we can set after Tucker soon-…"

"Oh wait, I've got a ship on radar," exclaimed Flowers. "Ah, jolly good. Wyoming has finally decided to show up. Guess the brits are punctual after all.

With those simple words, Church began to wish that he'd managed to commit suicide those few days back.

**XXX**

_Ok, a short chapter, but I felt I'd gone too long without updating. Also, sorry about the title change. I'll stop announcing them._

_The reason for this shortness is that this chapter serves as an author's note. I'm actually working up to the conclusion of this series. I've been working on too many stories simultaneously, so I'm working methodically to finish them. This will be the first example._

_However, that won't be the end. Once I get into the position of having a primary and secondary work, I'll continue in a sequel series. The main purpose of the Prequel Chronicles is to tie in Red vs. Blue with Halo, as to the nature of the war. From watching the videos, I'm going by the belief that the Red vs. Blue war started between Halo 1 and 2, but the actual series starts after Halo 3. _

_So yeah, the end is nigh. _

_BTW, I know that Church is slightly out of character with regards to Tucker, but I think that many of you will agree that although they give slack, both Griff and Simmons and Church and Tucker are actually good friends, given their various actions and attititudes throughout the series. Don't worry though, there's no gay stuff._

_Finally, no offence is meant to any Brits out there. Only Wyoming._


	10. Poms and Monitors

Red vs. Blue: Beginnings

Chapter Ten: Poms and Monitors

**Blue Pelican**

Asking Church what he disliked would have been a waste of time, considering that he pretty much disliked anything and everything on God's green Earth (or alien planet as the case might be). A better question would have been what he disliked particularly.

Unfortunately for Church, many of the things that he disliked particularly were currently having an impact on him. Tucker was one of these things and he was currently trying to save him. Flowers was someone that made him uneasy and, given the size of the pelican and the fact that a banshee had been parked in there, he didn't have much room to keep his distance. Finally, there was the fact that the pilot of the banshee was in there with them-Wyoming.

"Well private, we meet again," said the Brit, as pompous as ever. "Have you learnt to get shot properly yet?"

"Can it assfucker," muttered Church, not too keen in engaging in conversation.

"I see that they gave you your own armour," sneered Wyoming. "What did you do to deserve that? Actually hit something?"

"Er, yeah, I did," lied Church. "Want to see a recreation of it?"

"Now now you two, that's enough," interrupted Flowers.

"Ah yes, you're right, I shouldn't bully incompetent soldiers," said Wyoming snidely, getting a nasty look from Church. "So what can I do to help you old chaps?"

"Shoot yourself in the head," Church muttered.

Flowers either didn't here Church's comment or simply ignored it; "We have a problem with one of our soldiers. We require your assistance."

"Oh really? And who would that be? Private Church here? I wouldn't be surprised."

"Wyoming, you're the only problem here," snapped Church, fingering for his pistol.

"Oh don't worry, I can help," 'reassured' Wyoming. "So what's the matter? The other side of your bed too cold?"

If looks could kill, Wyoming would have been lying on the floor with blood oozing out of every opening. Unfortunately for Church, that wasn't the case. It was bad enough that he had to work with Wyoming, but the bastard just _had_ to bring references to Tex into this, no matter how subtle.

As Church thought of his current options for killing the mercenary, Flowers finished his explanation as to how Tucker had been captured. "So will you help us?" he asked.

"Of course, helping people is what I do." There was an uneasy silence. "For the right price of course." The awkwardness passed.

"Very well," said Flowers. "There's no price that I wouldn't pay to bring Tucker back."

"Splendid. Well let's set after him while we negotiate my fee. Shame I'm not being hired to assassinate him, but perhaps I can knock off a few Reds to make up for it."

"You know, I'd be willing to pay you to assassinate Tucker _after_ you've saved him," offered Church.

"Oh do be quiet lad. If you're going to offer me jobs at least have a decent amount of money." With that, Wyoming walked back to the cockpit to negotiate with Flowers, who was currently showing his gratitude.

"Cockbite," muttered Church. He turned to face Wyoming's banshee, no doubt stolen some poor Elite. Church hated the Covenant as much as anyone else in the UNSC but he couldn't help feeling sorry for someone who had experienced a gloating Pom in their final moments.

Yet something was amiss. Banshee's weren't designed for space flight. Wyoming must have hitched a ride off another craft, one with slip space capabilities. But why be in this part of the galaxy in the first place? The Covenant hadn't reached this sector so he wouldn't be receiving any missions for shooting Elites or beating up Grunts. And the Red and Blue War here was just as dull. He wouldn't be heading through here unless…

Unless he was already on a mission.

Something was up. And Church was going to find out what. At least, that's what he would have done if he cared enough.

**Red Pelican**

"I feel sick sir," moaned Griff.

"Good. As long as you're in pain, I'm happy."

The Reds of Blood Gulch Outpost Number One had finally set off after the fleeing Blues. Griff had been quick to point out that they were probably way ahead of them by now, but that still didn't stop Sarge, totally devoted to the honourable Red cause.

Or too stupid to realise that they didn't have a snowball's chance in hell of catching up to them and the pelican would probably run out of fuel, considering that it didn't have slip space capabilities.

"Sir, I enjoy seeing Griff in pain as much as you do, I still think that we should do something," said Simmons, who was currently flying the craft.

"What, suddenly you're siding with the lard tub?"

"No sir, I just don't want to have to clear my visor again."

Griff chuckled at this but quickly stopped as Sarge turned to look at him. "You've got a point Simmons. Private Griff is quickly becoming a liability."

"Oh boy, here we go," sighed Griff.

Sarge may or may not have had his fun but Griff never got to find out as Simmons inadvertently came to his rescue.

"Er Sarge, I think you should look at this."

Grumbling, the sergeant obliged. "You better have a good reason for this private. Can't you see that I'm torturing Griff here?"

"Sorry sir, but something's amiss. I've picked up something on radar."

"What is it? A giant ass you can kiss?" asked Griff, coming to join them.

Simmons ignored him, a sign that was completely engrossed. "A small object's heading towards us, about double the speed of the pelican."

"How small?" asked Sarge. "The size of Griff's brain?"

Griff turned a shade of dark red as Simmons continued; "Larger actually. About the size of a soccer ball."

"But if it's so small, how can we pick it up?"

"That's the weird thing," said Simmons. "By all rights, I shouldn't be able to. However, it's producing an incredible amount of energy for something so small."

"Definitely not Griff's brain," murmured Sarge. "How far away from us is it now?"

Simmons's face lost all colour; "Fifty metres."

Sarge quickly took control; "Everyone, brace for impact! Griff, get yourself in a position that ensures you suffer horribly!"

"Excuse me, that hardly seems logical," piped up a voice.

Sarge turned to face Griff; "You disagreeing with me?"

"What? I didn't say anything!" protested Griff, although agreeing with what the voice said.

"The Reclaimer is right, it was me," piped up the same voice. All eyes turned to the source. There was a flash of yellow light and what looked like a small orb appeared. A yellow electronic eye swept the pelican's interior.

"Three Reclaimers? How fortunate! The Flood may yet be contained."

"Alright bub, who the hell are you?" shouted Sarge, cocking his shotgun.

"Oh yes, I haven't introduced myself yet," chirped the orb. "I am Monitor 823543, known as Zealous Artefact."

"Really? And what's your purpose for being here?" asked Sarge.

"Extenuating circumstances, due to recent events at Installation 05," said the Monitor. "Time is of the essence however, we must prepare to defend that which can destroy the Flood. After that, I must return to my installation."

"And which one would that be?" asked Simmons, aware that there were seven halos.

"Why, Installation 08 of course."


	11. Wyoming: Cockbite of the First Class

Red vs. Blue: Beginnings

Chapter Eleven: Wyoming: Cockbite of the First Class

**Red Pelican**

It might have seemed humorous in a way, to see three soldiers pointing their weapons at what was basically a hovering orb, especially so since the only real weapon was Sarge's shotgun and although Griff's sniper rifle was nearby, the chances of him actually hitting anything with it at this point in time were slim, probably due to a combination of incompetence and laziness.

Simmons however, knew that the situation was deadly serious. All info on the Halos, including the recent events at Installation 04 was strictly classified. Still, Simmons was a competent techie and it didn't take him long to hack into the ONI database, something that he'd done after Sarge hinted at the events after arriving at the gulch. He had the low-down.

Which made the situation all the more disturbing. Apparently there were seven halos, with one of them being destroyed. Still, the existence of just one was deadly enough. If there was an eighth installation, their work had become much more difficult. It also raised the question of why Guilty Spark had said that there were only seven, at least assuming that Master Chief's communication logs were accurate.

"Are you deaf, reclaimers? Do I need to repeat myself again?" The monitor in front of them hovered quizzically.

"No, we heard you the first time," snarled Sarge. "I just want to know what the hell yur doing on ma ship!"

"Your ship?" asked Griff. "I thought you established that this ship was the sole property of Red Command."

"Quiet turdbelly, before I toss you into space."

"Ahem, you asked me why I'm here," pointed out the Monitor. "Do you not want me to explain?"

"Yeah, go ahead," said Simmons, tightening the grip on his pistol.

"Thank you. As I said before, recent events at Installation 05 have prompted swift action. Not only have the Flood been released but its firing system was interrupted."

"Well that's good," snarled Simmons.

"You're becoming more like Sarge with each passing day," sighed Griff, shuddering at the thought of Simmons going beyond the role of official kisass.

The monitor continued; "Not only have events got out of hand at Installation 05 but Earth is vulnerable too. It simply must not fall into enemy hands."

"What's happened? Have the Blues attacked?" exclaimed Sarge.

"No, far worse," chuckled the monitor. "An entity known as the Covenant is poised to invade. My databanks on them are limited but it appears that their interpretation of Forerunner artefacts is…misleaded."

There was some silence after this, although Sarge could be heard muttering something about how the Blues were the larger threat. "So why do you need us? And where are you from?" asked Simmons eventually.

"Your forces are preparing to defend Earth," said the monitor. "Your craft is woefully inadequate to get you to Red Command, but I can help. My teleportation grid extends all across this sector."

Sarge paused in thought before responding; "I'd rather fight Blues than aliens," he said slowly. "But if Red Command needs us, then I won't turn down the call!"

"I take it that this includes me too?" asked Griff. He didn't like where this was going. It reeked of effort.

"Of course, dirt bag! This ordeal sounds dangerous and the chances of you dying are consequently high! Which is a good thing, of course…"

The monitor stared at Sarge; "I can't comprehend your logic, but I'm glad to see that you're willing to be of assistance. I shall begin teleportation of you and your vessel." With that, the monitor began the process. Sarge and Griff disappeared instantly, but Simmons and the pelican lingered.

"Why do you resist reclaimer?" asked the monitor, seeing that Simmons was seemingly trying to prevent himself from being teleported

"You…you haven't told us everything," gritted Simmons, struggling to keep within reality. "How is there an eighth halo? Why did Guilty Spark say that there was only seven?"

The monitor made no reply. Simmons would have continued, but he could fight off the teleportation no longer. He and the pelican were teleported, leaving the monitor in the void of space. It let out a small chuckle;

"Now who said that I was guarding a halo?"

**Blue Pelican**

"Wyoming, we're within range of the target."

"Ah, jolly good."

Church sighed. Partly out of frustration at Wyoming's manner of speech. However, it was also one of relief. If they were within range of the target (Tucker), that meant that Wyoming would be heading off soon. There was also the fact that Tucker would be rescued, but Church tried to shove that thought to the back of his mind.

"Ah, god damit!" Flowers's voice came from the cockpit, snapping Church out of his thoughts.

"Hey, that's my line," muttered Church as he headed up to check what was wrong.

Wyoming seemed to have overheard him; "Don't get any ideas private, leave copyright to the professionals."

"Which obviously doesn't include you arsefucker."

"Stop it both of you!" shouted Flowers, taking on his 'father role.' "The enemy pelican has resumed its course to Red Command, which means that not only can we gain no further ground on it, but it means that we stand at greater risk of running out of fuel."

"Oh really? How unfortunate," said Wyoming, not sounding like he meant it at all.

"Can it cockbite!" shouted Church, not sure why he was so angry. "Capy, is there any way that we'll be able to get within range of that craft?"

Flowers paused in thought but soon stopped. "Actually, there is a way. Maybe its time that we gave that cannon a try."

**Some Time Later…**

It was official. Flowers was insane. Yet at this turn of events, Church barely noticed. He was listening to Wyoming's protests in glee.

"I do say chaps, this is insane, absolutely insane!" exclaimed Wyoming.

"Shut up you prick, or we'll shoot you into Ireland instead," said Church. The Brit, not liking the alternative, withdrew fully into the cannon.

"Where'd you get this thing capy?" asked Church.

"Tucker and I recovered it from the Red Base at Blood Gulch," explained Flowers. "The Red sergeant had just received the profile of one of the two soldiers that arrived recently. For some reason, he built this device and called it the Griff Cannon."

"Cool." Church looked over the cannon. It looked like a giant bazooka, big enough to fit a man inside. Currently, that 'man' was Wyoming.

"Alright, we're ready to begin our firing sequence," said Flowers, turning the ship around so its hatch would face the direction of the Red pelican. The strapped down banshee and cannon made things a tight fit, but Flowers and Church managed to hold on to something, lest the vacuum of space suck them out.

"Everything's ready," said Flowers to Wyoming. "You alright with this?"

"Just do it you repulsive fellow," came the Brit's response.

"Very well." Flowers began the process of opening up the pelican's rear hatch, despite the warnings that they were in space.

"Just one question," said Flowers. "What if you miss?"

"Wyoming gritted his teeth before answering; "I won't." With that, the hatch was opened up and Wyoming fired into the depths of space.

"Alright, closing hatch," said Flowers, doing just that. He noticed that Church was staring at Wyoming's banshee. "Something wrong son?" he asked.

"Sir, is it just me, or is that banshee acting weird?" asked Church. Flowers noticed that he had a point. It was flashing its lights in a peculiar way. Suddenly, the sound of a recording could be heard.

"Ah, hello old chaps. If you're receiving this message, I can only assume that I've departed to rescue your little friend Tucker."

Church cursed under his breath. He was hoping that he wasn't going to have to hear Wyoming's voice in the near future.

The recording continued; "However, I'm afraid that you won't be able to enjoy a reunion. Red Command had offered me a contract to eliminate the Blue forces stationed in Blood Gulch. I therefore felt; why not collect two pay checks? Anyway, cheerio."

"Backstabbing dicksucker," muttered Church as the sound of someone changing a tape could be heard. A new recording started, this time with the sound of a cool, feminine voice;

"This banshee will self-destruct in five seconds. See you in hell cockbites."

Church faced the ground; "Oh, son of a-…"

There's no sound in space. But the lightshow more than made up for it.

**XXX**

_So now we all know what a cockbite Wyoming is. Especially since he killed off York in Out of Mind. Poor guy. He and Dee had quite a bit of potential._

_The Griff Cannon was partly to tie out a mistake in chapter 2. None of you pointed it out, but Sarge already knows who Griff is but not Simmons. Instead of changing it, I decided to make it part of the story._

_Speaking of which, this story is coming to a close. About two or three chapters before the finale._


	12. As Per Protocol

Red vs. Blue: Beginnings

Chapter Twelve: As Per Protocol

**Depths of Space**

Wyoming glanced with satisfaction at the explosion that engulfed the pelican. Had to sacrifice his banshee of course, but there was plenty more where that came from. Of course, he may not even have to continue his work as a freelancer. The two juicy pay checks that were coming his way, they reeked of luxurious retirement. And not "reeked" in the bad sense.

The freelancer turned his attention back to his target, namely the pelican that was transporting Private Tucker. His mission was to retrieve him. However, given that his employer; Captain Flowers, was dead and had already handed over the pay check, he saw no reason to do such a thing. He'd simply latch himself to the ship, gain entry, kill everyone inside and prepare to enjoy a life of luxury.

The power of the Griff cannon was definitely impressive, considering that he was already in sight of the target. Wyoming readied his pistol and attached a grapple, ready to latch onto the pelican. He wasn't going to have much time to aim, given the speed at which he was approaching the craft, but Wyoming was confident in his abilities.

The moment had come. Wyoming would shoot over it in about 4.7 seconds. He raised his pistol, got ready to fire…then froze. His body wasn't moving. The pelican shot on ahead while he remained suspended in space.

"Oh I do say, what is the meaning of this?" the freelancer exclaimed to no-one in particular. It was therefore very surprising when someone, or something, responded.

"I do apologise reclaimer, but I'm afraid that you'll have to bear with a change of plans." The voice was calm and robotic, but Wyoming could have sworn that there was a degree of smug satisfaction.

"And who the devil are you?" he demanded over his radio, trying to maintain his usual arrogance but partially failing. "Enemy or friend?"

His contact chuckled; "That is a choice that you yourself have to make. Perhaps you will understand more once I…enlighten you."

"And what if I don't want to?" Wyoming declared. "I'm a busy man, I don't have time to play silly games."

There was an eerie silence before the voice responded, this time almost coming out as a growl; "I never said that you had a choice, Reclaimer." Before Wyoming could respond, yellow light washed over him, and space became slightly emptier.

**Mobile Station 'Red Giant', current site of Red Command**

Upon arriving at Blood Gulch, Griff thought that he'd seen true levels of insanity. A sergeant who by all rights should never have made it past the rank of private, a fellow soldier with an aptitude for kissing one's ass to such an extent that he should have had his mouth clogged by faeces and a Blue who shouldn't have been using a sniper rifle given his poor aim. Of course, the last factor wasn't that surprising. All Blues were cocksucking arsefuckers, incompetence came as no surprise.

So here he was in one of the landing bays of a mobile station, the current HQ of the Red Army leaders (Red Army? Did that make them communists?). Nothing particularly unusual apart from the fact that the colour red was everywhere. What _was_ unusual was the fact that they and the pelican had simply appeared in the landing bay.

They'd been greeted by deck staff, as protocol dictated. However, they seemed to be more glad that they were actually here than wondering at how that came to be. They'd reported it and hurried off. Something big was going down, and all Griff could hope was that it didn't affect him too much.

Sarge claimed to know what was happening, though he wasn't giving out any hints, claiming that it was classified. Perhaps the actual data was, but Griff knew that Sarge knowing the secrets of current events was as likely as the chance that he'd start treating him as a fellow human being.

Simmons was pacing around, seemingly deep in thought. "Probably thinking of new ways to kiss Sarge's ass," thought Griff. Well, he wasn't that interested in aiding in the Spaniard's thought process (Simmons _was_ a Spanish name after all, it made sense).

Griff turned his attention to the only other individual in the landing bay, a soldier wearing brown armour who was currently servicing a Longsword Fighter, muttering under his breath. He seemed to be someone that Griff could relate to. He headed over.

"Hey pal, I understand that you're working hard and all, but I don't suppose you know where I could get something to eat," Griff asked.

"Yeah, I know," replied the soldier without looking up. "And I suppose that you want _me_ to get it?" The sentence came out with a definite touch of resentment.

"Wow, thanks!" exclaimed Griff. "Let's see, I'll have-…"

"Oh right, rely on Phil why don't you?" exclaimed the soldier. "Service the fighter Phil. Clean the floor Phil. Do _everything _Phil!"

Griff blinked a few times before answering; "Nice piece of rhetoric. Kinda dismal though."

"You'd be dismal too if you had to put up with the crap that I have to," muttered the soldier apparently called Phil.

"Griff, what in Sam's hell are you doing?" exclaimed a voice suddenly. To Griff's dismay, he saw that Sarge was walking over.

"Relax sir, I'm just hanging out," protested Griff half-heartedly, knowing that Sarge's onslaught would continue.

"Indeed? And have you thought about this poor soldier here? He could catch your laziness."

Griff sighed; "Sir, I suppose that saying that that was the most retarded thing I ever heard will do me more harm than good."

"Correction. It won't do you _any _good," snarled Sarge. Fighting the urge to cower in fear, Griff turned to Phil for support, but his…acquaintance had gone back to servicing the pelican.

"Thanks for the support pal, it really made a difference," said Griff sarcastically.

"Whatever," muttered Phil. "It's not as if you'd return the favour." It was at this point that a beeping could be heard, a light flashing on the upper wall. "Bout time," Phil murmured, heading over to the lever that opened the hanger doors.

"Huh? What's going on?" asked Simmons absently. His mind was primarily on the words of the monitor.

"A FedEx pelican bringing in a small shipment," explained Phil as he typed in the key code to gain access to the lever that would open the hanger doors. "Bought time it showed up, the fleet's due to enter slipspace in about fifteen minutes."

"Fleet? What fleet?" exclaimed Griff.

Sarge sighed; "Why don't you look out the hanger and actually use your eyes, you lazy piece of-…"

"Alright, alright, I get the point," interrupted Griff, not willing to endure lecture no. 7759. He looked out the hanger bay doors and let his mouth fall open in awe. Frigates, destroyers, cruisers, even carriers. All were contrasted against the void of space. It was as if the entire Red space fleet was in one place. Something big was definitely going down.

"Ok, I'm ready to open the hanger," said Phil. "You guys better get behind cover."

"Can't you open it now?" asked Sarge.

"Why?"

"Oh, never mind," sighed Sarge, seeing that Griff had increased the distance between himself and the hanger doors. Shrugging, Phil opened them.

The vacuum of space was a bitch, but luckily it didn't have to make its presence known for long. The pelican shot through into the hanger and began its landing sequence, albeit a little shakily. Phil raised an eyebrow, having seen many ships enter and leave this hanger. Either something was wrong with the pelican or the pirate was a total noob.

The pelican touched down and its rear ramp decended. Out staggered a soldier in tan armour, holding a bottle of beer in one hand. It was the same one that had brought the sniper rifle to Blood Gulch.

"What in Sam's hell do you think you're doing?" exclaimed Sarge. "Drinking and driving, that's not fitting of a Red Soldier. This is the same kind of behaviour that I expect from my least favourite private!"

"What?" exclaimed Phil. "How would you expect this from me?"

"I meant Griff."

"Oh," said Phil. "Sorry. I'm used to being the least favourite. Man, life sucks."

"Relax fellas, I'm not drunk," said the tan soldier.

"Your stagger suggests otherwise," pointed out Simmons.

"Oh don't worry, I've just had the time of my life!" The declaration came out high pitched. Almost two high pitched.

"Wait a minute…" said Phil slowly, walking over. The soldier was still caught up in whatever pleasant memories that he was experiencing, so he made no move to stop Phil from taking off his helmet. Only thing was, it wasn't _his_ helmet. It was a case of it being _her _helmet. A female with long blonde hair and sparkly blue eyes, at this point in time conveying a sense of trepidation.

Phil sighed; "I should have known."

"Hey, give that back," cried the girl, yanking the helmet away from Phil and putting it back on. Sarge, Simmons and Griff were staring at her. The damage had been done.

"Yes," she sighed. "I'm female."

"Hah! I knew it! Only females can drive this poorly!" exclaimed Griff.

"Like you can talk," said Simmons.

Sarge let out a growl and started walking forward; "I never thought this day would come," he said slowly. "I've actually met someone that disgusts me as much as Griff." Griff raised an eyebrow. Had Sarge found another individual that he could victimise? Perhaps there was hope for him after all.

Sarge had reached the female individual. "Alright dirt bag. Name and rank."

"Oh can the dramatics pal, I'm not the rookie wearing standard issue armour," exclaimed the female.

"I'll have you know that I'm actually a sergeant, and am thus wearing standard issue armour as part of protocol." His voice came out, filled with venom. "Now answer my question."

The girl sighed, sympathising with Phil. "Private Debbie Chapel," she murmured, facing the ground, pissed that voice filters that were compatible with their helmets wouldn't be invented for another three years.

"Damit, what is the universe coming to?" exclaimed Sarge. "Not only is Red Command letting females into the army, but they're letting them fly pelicans shoddily!"

"Oh go back to the 20th century, my landing wasn't that bad!" exclaimed Debbie. "I-…"

"Yo baby, what's keeping ya?" A voice drifted out of the pelican.

All eyes turned back to the pelican, where the sound of footsteps could be heard. "Where ya gone baby, neither of us have lost our virginity yet."

"Oh my _god_," moaned Debbie.

Another soldier came striding out of the pelican, this one clad in standard issue blue armour, and like Debbie, was holding a bottle of beer. "Come on, we've barely…oh." Tucker stopped, seeing that the Red sergeant had withdrawn his hulking shotgun.

"I'll deal with you later," snarled Sarge to Tucker. He turned to Debbie; "Care to explain the meaning of this?"

"So we talked a bit and I revealed that I was a girl," said Debbie hastily. "Nothing happened."

"Really? I'm getting a very different impression," chuckled Griff.

Sarge turned back to face Tucker; "Alright Blue, you're about to get intimate with something else. Namely a 12-gauge…" Sarge trailed off. All of the Reds were looking at something above Tucker.

Tucker followed suit. There was some type of yellow, electric light forming. Suddenly there was a flash and two soldiers came tumbling out landing on top of him, one in teal armour and the other in cobalt.

"Bitch," said the cobalt soldier, finishing the sentence that he'd started in the pelican. The teal one looked around. "Ugh, where are we?" he asked. "The afterlife?"

"Not yet," came a voice. A shotgun was pointed down at them.

**Installation 08**

Deep in the library of Installation 08, there was a flash of yellow light and a soldier clad in white armour came tumbling out. He rose slowly to his feet.

"And where the devil am I?" asked Wyoming.

"In the library of Installation 08," chirped a voice. Wyoming looked up to see a floating orb hovering above him, shining with yellow light.

"And where would this be?" asked Wyoming cautiously.

The orb chuckled before continuing; "Honestly, you reclaimers are hopeless at preserving history. Installation 08 is located…" The orb trailed off.

"I don't have all the time in the world you know," said Wyoming.

"Quite right, you don't," said the orb. "Your phenotype is compatible. You shall be incorporated." The sounds of humming could be heard…of doors opening.

Wyoming didn't exactly feel fear, but certainly trepidation. He holstered his pistol and drew out his MA5B assault rifle. "What's going on?" he asked.

"Protocol can be changed when the need is dire and a golden opportunity presents itself," said the orb, the sound of feet getting heavier. Sentinel Serries 2 is in its prototype stage, but I believe that you should be able to help."

Wyoming went to answer but stopped short, seeing the…'things' that were on either side of him, covering both exits to the chamber. "Oh bugger," he murmured.

The 'things' pressed forward. Heavy lead greeted them.


	13. Finishing the Fight

Red vs. Blue: Beginnings

Chapter Thirteen: Finishing the Fight

**Red Command**

There were times when Church felt that the whole universe was against him. He'd been sent to the least desirable piece of real estate in the known universe. He was forced to put up with Flowers and Tucker. He'd been shot in the shoulder. He'd been forced to interact with Wyoming. He'd nearly died in an explosion due to that very cockbite. And to top it all off, he was staring down the barrel of a shotgun currently wielded by a homicidal, Red Army sergeant. Church sighed; he was past caring.

"Well, aren't you going to beg for mercy?" snarled Sarge, looking at the three Blues.

"We Blues will never beg for mercy," declared Flowers, rising to his feet.

"You've got courage, I'll give you that. Still, when I'm done, it'll be more broken than Griff's bones will be in the near future."

"Huh? Why's he angry at me this time?" Griff asked Simmons.

"For existing of course. Quite frankly, I can't blame him."

Griff sighed; "If anyone wants me I'll be in an escape pod." With that he started to head towards the door that led out of the hanger. Surprisingly it opened before Griff reached it, two individuals walking out. One was dressed in the standard white uniform that naval officers wore, the Red Army symbol (the snake on the black triangle) showing on his upper left chest. The other was wearing cyan coloured MJLONIR armour. A helmet was under his arm, short brown hair, brown eyes and a straight face showing. However, the features were barely noticed, his armour being the focus of the attention. Cyan coloured armour could only mean one thing-a Blue was on the station.

"Sarge, heads up, there's a Blue here!" exclaimed Griff.

"Of course there is arse-wipe, three of them! I'm currently pointing ma shotgun at one of them!"

"No, there's an extra one!"

"Griff, I'm well aware that you can't count, don't reinforce that fact!"

In this time the Admiral and his blue coloured visitor had walked over to Phil, deducing that the orange one was a complete and utter noob. Phil quickly saluted to both of them-no doubt the Blue was of a higher rank than him. After all, _everyone _was of a higher rank than him.

"At ease private," said the admiral. "I understand that there was an interesting occurrence in this hanger recently.

"There was sir. Still, I think you better ask that guy over there." He pointed to Sarge, who was still engaging in a staring contest with Flowers. Church and Tucker were trying to get the blue's attention-he wasn't giving it to them.

"Private, what the hell are you doing?" asked the admiral.

"He's actually a sergeant sir," said Simmons. "Damn good one too."

"Shut up kisass, you're spoiling the moment," said Griff.

"What moment?"

"That Sarge is going to be in for it."

The admiral tapped Sarge on the shoulder, who quickly spun around; "What?"

"Well for starters private, you could answer me when I'm calling you."

"Private? I'm no private! I'm a sergeant."

The admiral shrugged; "Whatever. First things first, I want to know what the hell you're doing."

"Threatening the blues with disembowelment, what do ya think?"

"I thought he was threatening us with breaking our bones," whispered Tucker to Church.

"He was, he just stopped short," answered the cobalt one. "Pity."

"Huh? How is not getting our bones broken a pity?"

"Because I'm pretty sure that he'd start with Flowers then you, with the admiral coming in time to save me."

"…you're a prick."

The admiral was currently engaged in a heated argument with Sarge; "Don't you lecture me you wussy navy pup!" yelled Sarge. "Who in Sam's hell are ya anyway?"

"Look at my name tag private-Admiral Tobias McClellan."

"Oh really? I find that hard to believe," snarled Sarge.

"And how's that?"

"Because a real admiral would know that I'm a sergeant, not a private!"

"Whatever, I'm not really interested in your rank. What I do want to know is what occurred on this deck that was worthy of my attention."

Sarge began to explain to the admiral, with the Reds looking on, the Blues forgotten. The cyan coloured one walked over. "You guys ok?" he asked.

"Fine for now," said Flowers. "But may I ask what a fine chap like you is doing in a Red Army Installation."

Although slightly uneasy at being called a "fine chap," the soldier willingly answered; "What's wrong with being with the Red Army?"

"Er, because we're Blue?" asked Church.

"What to you mean blue, you're cobalt," said Tucker.

"Yeah, and proud of it. "_You're_ the one in standard blue armour, I've got nothing to be ashamed of."

"Really? I could name a few things."

"Stop bickering you two, let the man finish talking," scolded Flowers. He turned back to face the stranger; "So it's acceptable to be in the Red Army now days is it?" Never heard that."

"What, didn't you receive the transmission that Blue Command sent to all its forces? Where you guys based?"

Tucker, Church and Flowers exchanged an uneasy glance with each other before Church answered; "Blood Gulch Outpost Alpha."

The new blue snorted; "Blood Gulch eh? That explains a lot."

"What, what's wrong with Blood Gulch?" asked Tucker. He noticed that Church was giving him a withering glare; "What?"

"Tucker, that's the dumbest question I ever heard. And if you ever show such a bout of stupidity again, I'm going to have to fucking kill you."

"Duly noted asshole."

"Tucker, Church, watch your manners!" exclaimed Flowers. He turned his attention back to his visitor; "As you've no doubt gathered, we didn't receive any transmission. Maybe an error in our receiver."

"Or Blue Command forgot about us," suggested Tucker.

"Or Vic decided to be a sardonic asshole again," muttered Church.

The cyan armoured soldier sighed and pulled out something from his belt that stored additional ammunition. Surprisingly it wasn't a weapon; instead, it was a simple piece of printed paper.

"What's that?" asked Tucker.

"It's a piece of paper, what do you think dumb ass?" asked Church.

"You know what I mean."

The soldier sighed and handed it to Flowers. "Read it. It may give you some insight, provided that your brains are more developed than the rest of your squad. My own would have kicked your arses."

"Really? Where are they now?" sneered Church.

The soldier put his helmet back on before answering; "Dead. We were stationed at Danger Canyon when we received the transmission. Soon after…well, let's just say that the Covenant are bloodthirsty bastards." With that, he walked off.

Flowers had a great urge to express fatherly sympathy, but resisted it, the first time he'd managed to do so. He started reading, with Tucker looking over. Even Church looked at it, if only out of morbid curiosity.

**Blue Army Emergency Priority Order F21C201R4**

**Encryption Code: Blue**

**Public Key: file/ASAP**

**From: Blue Command**

**To: All Blue Army and Navy Forces**

**Subject: High Priority Order A18S21V23Y26**

**Classification: RESTRICTED**

**Date: October 21st, 2552**

**To all Blue Army Commanders**

**All Blue Army fleets are to muster at rally point Lamda (see co-ordinates in attached file). Upon receiving this message, standard slipspace jumps are to be carried out within 0400 hours. All ground forces are to send out encrypted transmissions. Any vessel which receives one of these is obliged to extract these forces. Failure to do so will be regarded as insubordination and those responsible will be punished accordingly.**

**Until further notice, all Red Army Forces are to be regarded as allies. They've received the same notice. However, caution is advised. Also note that unless changes occur in the chain of command, all naval forces are under the overall command of UNSC Fleet Admiral Sir Terrance Hood. Failure to comply with this will also be regarded as insubordination.**

**Further information will be provided once you've arrived at the rally point. However, you should note that at this point in time it's highly likely that there will be a high number of Covenant vessels in this section of space. If such vessels are encountered, remember the following;**

**If in a position where it is likely that a fleet engagement could be won, engage by all and any means necessary. Kills are all that matters.**

**If in a position where a win is far from guaranteed, initiate a blind slipspace jump as per the Cole Protocol, trying to lead them off. However, do not erase the co-ordinates to Earth however.**

**This is all. May the blessings of the Eagle be upon you.**

**XXXX**

"That's it," said Flowers, turning to his two privates who were both listening aptly.

"Wow, I'm impressed," said Church. "Blue Command actually sent a message that didn't contain the word 'noob."

"Still, it seems kind of odd though," said Tucker. "I mean, since when has Blue Command worked in collaboration with the UNSC?"

Church shrugged; "Hell if I know. I always assumed that the Blue and Red Armies were breakaway factions or something. I mean, why have a civil war when there's a conglomeration of aliens bent on humanity's extinction?

None of them had any answer to that. It certainly didn't make much sense to be fighting a civil war when a genocidal war was being waged against you. They knew that it was only a matter of time before they volunteered or were conscripted, but they certainly hadn't expected to be put in an army that was told to "fight the Reds and not worry about the advancing Covenant."

From what Church could gather, he. Along with multiple other volunteers and conscripts had been put into military sevice at around the start of this year, their training beginning. The actual war between Red and Blue had actually started almost exactly at the same time that Reach fell. A few weeks of savage conflict, during which Church was given his own coloured armour and lost his squad on Sidewinder. Soon after arriving at Blood Gulch, he realised that the war had become far more relaxed and lazy, battles almost non-existent. And a hack that he'd preformed on a database revealed that this trend coincided almost exactly with the conclusion of Operation: First Strike.

And now, to top it off, they were being forced to co-operate with the Reds, something that they were told never to do, even in the event of Covenant arriving. Of course, that was unlikely; the war zones were located 'behind' Earth, in that it was between them and the Orion Arm, where most of the Covenant was situated.

Something was up. And for once, Church actually cared about it.

**Red Team**

"That's all there is to tell sir," said Sarge, having explained the set of recent occurrences.

"Private, that was one of the most outlandish stories I ever heard. And I don't think I believed a word of it."

Sarge growled; "First of all, it's absolutely true. Secondly, I'm not a private, I'm a sergeant!"

"Whatever," shrugged McClellan. "You may as well get used to being called private, because that's what I'm demoting you to."

"What the hell?"

Sarge was flabbergasted-he'd served the noble Red cause for…well, about a month, but he was as loyal to it as any soldier. Although his visor was down, Simmons seemed to be giving the impression of being shocked. Griff was laughing in joy. Debbie and Phil seemed to be assessing it calmly.

"Private, we don't have time to continue this conversation," said the admiral. "Just help private Chapel unload the shipment from the Pelican."

"Are…are you sure this is wise?" asked Simmons. "After all, a squad needs a CO to function properly. I'm sure that our current sergeant is up to the task."

The admiral gave Simmons a withering glare; "You're right about the CO, but the individual is wrong. And given that you sound like an absolute kisass, I don't think that you're a good substitute." He turned to Griff. "How'd you like to volunteer?"

Griff's spirits soared in what felt like the first time in weeks-him, a sergeant? Surely such a position would allow him to gain payback against Sarge and perhaps Simmons could actually kiss someone else's arse for once. He was about to respond affirmatively when thoughts of doubts crept into his mind;

"Er, does being a sergeant involve more work?"

"Of course."

Griff sighed, his spirits sagging again; "Then I'm afraid I'll have to pass."

"Fine. Chapel, you've been promoted to sergeant." With that, the admiral walked out, without even glancing back.

Sarge glared at his new superior; "If you think for one second that I'm going to follow the orders of a female, I can assure you that-…"

"Can it private!" Debbie had taken to her new role surprisingly well. "You can unload the pelican." She turned to face Simmons; "Am I correct in guessing that you're the arse kisser?"

"Well, I wouldn't call myself that but-…"

"Very well. You can start now."

Tucker grinned; "I'm starting to like this chick even more."

"Don't' get your hopes up puppy," came a voice. The cyan armoured soldier had walked back into the room. "I take it that you read the orders?"

"Yeah, we did," said Flowers. He took on a fatherly tone; "I'm sorry about your loss."

The Blue shrugged; "We've all endured losses, no reason to get hooked up over it. By the way, I don't think we've been introduced. I'm Lieutenant Damien Grant."

"Captain Flowers," answered the soldier of the same name. He gestured at Church and Tucker; "These two are Private Church and Private Tucker. Am I correct in guessing that you'll be joining our squad?"

Damien gave a salute; "Sir yes sir!"

Church sighed; "Great, we've got a militaristic nut job."

Tucker shrugged; "Cant' be too bad. After all, he couldn't be much worse than you."

"Aw shut up you-…"

"Attention everyone, this is Admiral McClellan speaking," came a voice over the intercom. "The fleet will be entering slipspace in approximately ten minutes. Everyone get to a cryo tube, but make sure that you're able to emerge fully combat ready."

Tucker looked faint-combat ready? That implied that they had to fight. And if they had to fight, they had to do stuff. He noticed that the orange soldier looked equally depressed.

"Alright, you heard the man!" shouted Debbie. She gestured to the crate that 'Sarge' (whether that name still applied or not was a matter for debate) and Phil had brought out of the pelican. "That crate contains a weapons cache. Arm yourself appropriately and then head for the cryo bay. Phil can show you the way." Tucker noticed that she seemed to be addressing the Blues also-teamwork was already coming into play.

"Do we go along with this?" he asked Flowers.

"Yes," said Flowers in a monotone. "We do."

Within five minutes, they'd armed themselves appropriately. They ran down the corridors that led to the cryo bay. Different thoughts were racing through each soldier's mind.

Sarge still carried his trusty M90 Shotgun, although he'd replenished his supply of shells. Although he had an inherent desire to use it against the Blues that were running alongside him, most of his anger was directed at his sergeant. It was bad enough that he'd been demoted, but for a _female_ to be promoted to take his place? What was the world coming to?

Flowers had armed himself with a MA5B Assault Rifle. Things were definitely becoming weird, what with Blue Command allying with the Red forces. Still, he trusted their judgement. Most of his concern lay with Church and Tucker. Damien sounded like he'd been through a lot, but his privates were still green. He swore to himself that he'd ensure their safety.

Simmons had chosen a BR55 Battle Rifle. Inwardly, he was feeling uneasy. With Sarge having been demoted to private and therefore of the same rank, his role as a father figure had been diminished somewhat? And his superior was a female? He needed father figures for love and support, not mother figures.

Tucker had been forced to carry an M7 SMG, since Church had beaten him to the sniper rifle. Again. Still, he wasn't too pissed. From the sound of things, he was going to be in the company of a female for quite some time. A very appealing prospect.

Griff panted as he ran along, carrying an S2AM Sniper Rifle in his hands. He was also miserable. Although Sarge was now of equal rank, any joy he experienced was negated by the fact that from the sound of things he was going into battle, and therefore having to do stuff. Life really sucked.

Church, to his pleasure had beaten Tucker to the S2AM Sniper Rifle that he was holding. However, he was also fairly disconcerted. He actually felt passionate about the whole situation and his misgivings about Blue Command weren't ceasing. This wasn't' like him at all. Very disconcerting.

Debbie was in a very good mood. Promoted to lead an entire Red Army Squad! She had her misgivings about the former sergeant, but discarded them. Cocking her M7 SMG she prepared for the likely battle to come.

Damien ran down the corridors resolutely, a portable M247A1 GPMG in his hands. It felt good to be back with a squad, even if he was no longer in charge. He had his misgivings about the two privates but the captain seemed competent enough.

Phil, as usual, hadn't been assertive enough to take a weapon, letting the others beat him to it. As a consequence, he was stuck with his usual M6D pistol, something that was merely a sidearm for all the other soldiers running with him. He sighed inwardly-from the sound of things bad stuff was going to come down, and no doubt that he'd have to take the brunt of it.

The nine soldiers raced down the corridors to the cryo bay, once against each other but now united in purpose. Well, maybe "united" was too strong a word. Perhaps "forced to work with each other" was a better choice of terminology. Still, they were able to move with a purpose, at least it seemed that way to Admiral McClellan on the ship's bridge. He was watching them via surveillance camera, giving all the other soldiers on the ship the same treatment.

Hundreds, perhaps even thousands of Red Army soldiers fighting a war for no reason that they could ascertain. The admiral could though, even if he was one of the few that did, one of the few of the Red Army (with no doubt equally few knowing the truth in the Blue Army) who the truth behind the Red vs. Blue War. He could only hope that it had paid off. Quite a few lives had been lost in the initial stages. It was hard to believe that the war actually _benefited_ the UNSC.

"Shouldn't you be heading for the cryo bay?" asked a voice. McClellan turned to the source, seeing the holographic representation of the ship's AI materialise; Ash. "The fleet will be entering slipspace in approximately five minutes."

McClellan sighed-Ash was always to the point and he wasn't even a 'dumb' AI. He'd chosen a crimson colured avatar that represented a male teenager with sandy hair, supposedly having based his appearance on the long deceased Spartan-034. Since AIs were often called "ghosts", perhaps it was appropriate in a sense. The Spartan IIs deserved to be honoured, unlike the many incompetent oafs that made up the Red and Blue Armies.

"Yes, yes, I'm going," he sighed, heading towards an elevator that would take him directly to one of the cryo bays. Ash watched him go, waiting for the elevator to decend. As soon as it was out of sight he activated the internet, heading for his favourite sites. Humanity was doomed, but that still didn't stop him from enjoying himself.

**Red Fleet**

As one, the numerous ships entered slipspace. Carriers, cruisers, frigates, all entered the realm that was called slipspace. Every ship was accounted for. Except one however. No-one had noticed, but a single, unadorned frigate had joined their formation, entering the slipspace vortex.

**XXXX**

**Date: November 2nd, 2552**

**Subject: Red Army Fleet**

**Location: Sol System **

**Status: En route from Mars**

**Destination: Earth**

**Priority: Alpha**

Sarge looked out one of the windows of the mobile station, staring at the rapidly larger growing object that was Earth. Sarge was never one for melodrama, but he couldn't help but appreciate how it had an element of beauty. Still, much of that probably came from having been stationed in a dirt canyon.

However, its beauty was tainted, eclipsed by the numerous arcs of plasma fire intermingling with more conventional weaponry. Even more obvious than this was the fact that there were hundreds of ships engaged with each other above the planet, not to mention the numerous defence stations.

"You ok Sarge?" Griff walked over, still recovering from the freezer burn. He'd been too lazy to take off his armour and had paid the price.

"Yeah. You still calling me Sarge?" he asked.

Griff shrugged; "May as well. I mean, calling you by your actual name would indicate that we're friends or something."

"Which we're not."

"Exactly."

Just then an alarm sounded, followed by the voice of the ship's AI; "Alert, alert. Enemy ships inbound. ETA is five minutes. All staff report to battle stations. All soldiers stand by to repel boarders. This is NOT a drill. I repeat, this is NOT a drill."

Griff looked at Sarge; "What now sir?"

Sarge didn't' answer at first, instead locking and loading his shotgun. "Griff," he said. "It's time for us to finish the fight. After that, we can get back to fighting the Blues."

"Great," sighed Griff miserably. "Looking forward to it." Still, even he could understand the situation.

It was time to finish the fight.

**Red and Blue: The Battle for Earth**

**Finish the Fight**

**2007**

**Cockbites. **


	14. Epilouge

Red vs. Blue: Beginnings

Epilogue

At first glance, the library of Installation 08 looked the same as it always had-ancient architecture, as silent as the grave, giving the sense of it being arcane. Nothing completely major indicated that something had happened.

Upon closer inspection however, it would have been very apparent that something had happened. Numerous bullet casings lay all over the floor, bullet holes sprayed across the walls, various pieces of metal. Something _had_ happened, although the implications wouldn't have been immediately clear to an outsider.

Of course, the monitor of the installation, the construct which went by the codename of 823543 Zealous Artefact, fully understood the implications of what had happened. The reclaimer that he'd transported here had proven himself surprisingly versatile, only eventually being subdued due to weight of numbers rather than any lack of skill. Sentinel Serries 2 had a long way to go before being pressed into service, whether it be against the Flood or another foe.

Whistling a tune that he'd learnt from 343 Guilty Spark, the monitor headed over towards the centre of the library. If this had been a Halo the Index would have been kept here, but the truth of the matter was that this installation wasn't a halo, although linked to them. No, this installation had had another purpose, the giant statis tube situated in the centre being testament to that. If the Ark was activated this installation would play its role, but Zealous Artefact wasn't' too worried about that. This installation would carry out its role automatically, of that there was no doubt. No, his attention was mainly focussed on the thing inside the tube.

"The reclaimer has been subdued and the proper procedures will be taken," he chirped. "I think that we can rest assured that the Halos will be activated. I don't think that we have any pressing issues to contend with."

Silence followed, or at least it seemed that way. However, a wordless revelation had been passed to the monitor; "An anomaly? Really?" More silence. "Good grief, I am shocked. Almost too shocked for words. But tell me, how does this concern us?"

About a minute passed before the monitor responded; "Interesting. Very interesting. If obtained, Sentinel Serries 2 would be even more resilient. Very well, I shall be off then. Have no fear, I shall find the two individuals" With a flash of light, he was gone. Soon he would arrive at his destination;

Earth.

**Authors Notes**

I could have put this with the last chapter but I decided to follow the example set by the games (those of you who've seen their endings will understand). So as you have probably guessed, I'm waiting for Halo 3 to be released. The plot of this serries has been solidified but I want to wait, in case Bungie throws in any conflicting plot devices. I think I've already taken enough liabilities as it is.

Of course, there's also the liabilities as far as Red vs. Blue is concerned. I know it doesn't seem like it at this point but this fully links in with the Red vs. Blue War. Although you can guess what Book 2 concerns, some answers are revealed concerning the war, or at least my take at how it started in the universe I created. I doubt that Rooster Teeth will ever reveal how it started anyway, unless they decide to end the serries. Oh, and you've probably noticed that I've changed the name. I'll make the adjustments over time. This originally started as a true prequel to serries 1 but things have changed. Kinda like the progression of Fire Team Charlie and Sponsors vs. Freeloaders I guess.

So yeah, the serries continues in 2007. More OCs will be coming along with some more familiar faces from the show. I may do a few Halo/RVB oneshots in the time but mostly I'll be focusing on other works. Anyway, until next time.

Cockbites.


End file.
